Assassins
by SpaceCowgirl1
Summary: An AU story of love, courage and friendship but also betrayal, desperation and pain: When Boromir is kidnapped on the day before his wedding, Legolas and Aragorn set out to rescue him. Now COMPLETE!
1. sweet secrets

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DISCLAIMER: "The Lord of the Rings" and its characters belong to JRR Tolkien, I only borrowed them for some fanfiction. I do not get money out of this, it's only for entertainment purposes.

The characters I made up by myself are mine: Aerilyn, Atalar, Inunyen and Ghorid.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I haven't read through all books so far (only the first, I'm working myself through the second at the moment...), so please don't flame me for getting things wrong because of my lack of knowledge. Also, I'm from Germany and English is a foreign language to me, so expect some mistakes in grammar and spelling. This is my first attempt to write a LotR fanfic, so please bear with me!! Oh, and if you want to make my day: Please review!! Thanks! :)

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STORY BACKGROUND (important, please read!): This story is set after the fellowship returns home from their successful journey. Aragorn renounced the crown and Denethor still reigns Gondor (I know, far fetched, but my story wouldn't work otherwise). In order to help Gondor achieve a higher status and grow wealthy again, the wedding between Boromir (who didn't die in this version) and the daughter of the steward of Katalla (a powerful empire I made up) is arranged. Aragorn and Legolas are invited to witness the event and take part at the festivities.

P.S.: It will be explained how it came to be that Boromir lives and Aragorn is not King of Gondor in chapter 15. 

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The first chapter is mainly "character introduction", more powerful stuff comes later on. I hope you still like it.

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"What is on your mind, Lyn?"

"Nothing, Atalar. You shall not worry and watch over me all the time. I am not the little girl I used to be."

Atalar laughed softly and moved closer to the young woman who was standing at the window and stared outsides.

"Forgive me, my sister, but for me you will always remain my little Aerilyn." he said with a smile and gently put his hands on her shoulders from behind.

"I am getting married tomorrow." she said to point out that she was a woman now.

Atalar only snorted, took his hands from her shoulders and crossed the huge room to get a glass of wine from the table.

"The man you are getting married to is much too old for a maiden like you." he said with an angry tone in his voice.

"The man I'm getting married to has a name, dear brother." Aerilyn said a bit inpatient. He was slowly getting on her nerves. He brought up the topic every day since their arrival at Gondor two weeks ago.

"The name does not make him younger. Boromir is not the right..."

"Lord Boromir", she interrupted him, "is the man our father chose as my husband. I will do as our father wishes and serve Lord Boromir as his loving wife."

"Serve him as his loving wife? You are not even mature enough to deserve to be called a woman, how can you think you will make a good wife?"

Aerilyn's face darkened with anger, but she didn't reveal it to her brother and remained with her back to him.

"It's our father's wish. If you need to discuss the matter, please do so with him and not with me." she said and forced herself to stay calm. Atalar has always been an overprotective brother. She loved him very much, but he had to learn that she was about to begin a new life. A life seperated from him and their family at Katalla. A life at Gondor, by the side of Lord Boromir. She could tell that the thought of losing his beloved sister made Atalar's heart ache. He didn't hide his dislike towards Boromir, on the contrary. He kept on pointing out that he was a bad match for Aerilyn, far too old, far too serious, far too conceited.

Oh how Aerilyn wished she could take away the worry and fear from her brother's heart. How she wished to tell him the truth about Boromir and herself. But she couldn't.

Her father Ribensis, Steward of Katalla, was an ally of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. They lately had agreed on bonding their children and with that, bonding their empires and help them to greater power and wealth. As the only daughter Aerilyn was to marry Denethor's oldest son, Boromir. In the beginning she had been shocked herself, she was indeed a lot younger than him, and when they met for the first time his rude manners had scared her. She still remembered his rather angry facial expression when he had seen her and then had spoken to his father: "I thought I was to marry a lady, not to adopt and raise a child!" Today she could smile about this exclamation of his that had caused her to cry bitter tears in earlier days.

They both had felt uncomfortable with the arranged wedding at first. Aerilyn was young and innocent, she didn't know what to expect from the future her father had chosen for her. Besides, Boromir's presence had intimidated her. She couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life at this man's side. A man who thought of her only as a burden.

Boromir, on the other hand, had never felt the urge to bond with a woman, not to speak of a girl like Aerilyn. He was a warrior, not a husband. He knew he had to take her as his wife in order to help Gondor, it was his duty as he was the eldest son of the steward. It was nothing more to him, just his duty. But as time went by, they learned to think highly of each other.

What nobody knew was that the two of them had started to meet secretly as soon as Aerilyn had arrived at Gondor. This was the only way for them to talk to and see each other without other people around, and both felt the need to talk alone as they both felt uneasy about the situation. Their secret meetings had always been rather short and only happened during the nights, but nevertheless they got to know each other better and started to treasure each other's company. The unease had faded quickly, and with the first kiss they had shared not long ago the fire of love had started to burn in their hearts and didn't die since. On the contrary, the flames grew hotter and stronger with every day and every night. But she could not tell her brother about the love she had started to feel for Lord Boromir. Their meetings weeks before the wedding had to be kept secret. The reputations of both of them, and also their families, would suffer immensely if anybody knew about it.

Aerilyn gasped almost inaudibly in anticipation when she saw Boromir approaching the house on his strong horse.

"You must depart now, brother." she said and turned around to face him.

"What do you say?" he asked and raised on his feet, smiling about her boldness.

"Lord Boromir comes to visit. He surely wishes to speak to me alone and discuss about tomorrow." she said and hoped that she didn't blush.

"Then he can tell me so by himself." he said. "And I will not leave you with him until Hyeira is back here to watch after you."

"Atalar, I beg you. Do not quarrel with my husband."

"He is not your husband. Not yet." Atalar said just before there was a knock on the door. Aerilyn wanted to open it, but her brother was faster. He shoved her aside with his strong arm and, after opening the door, enjoyed the rather startled expression on Boromir's face when it wasn't his beloved who was revealed, but her brother.

"Lord Atalar..." he said and got control over his face and voice quickly again.

"Lord Boromir." Atalar replied coldly.

"I wish to see Lady Aerilyn." Boromir demanded with a dominant voice.

"Why?"

"I do not need to account to you for wishing to see my betrothed." Boromir responded. Atalar's dark eyes sparkled with fury, but the rest of his body remained calm.

"My sister needs to rest. Tomorrow, you surely do wish to be delighted by a beautiful, well balanced..."

"Atalar!" Aerilyn hissed behind his back.

"Well..." he said to Boromir but looked down to his sister who now stood next to him in the doorway. "The little one seems to be awake again."

"Yes, I am. Please leave us alone now, Atalar. I tell you, Hyeira will be back very soon."

"I trust you." he said, bent down to kiss her head and then left without losing another word.

"My Lady." Boromir said with a slight grin and lifted her delicate hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

"My lord. Please come in." she replied with a smile.

"No."

"No?" she echoed and frowned.

"No, although it is quite tempting, now that Hyeira is not there to watch after you... I am here to ask you to come with me on a ride."

"A ride? Now?"

"Why not. I already prepared you a horse."

"I have to change my clothes, then." she said, looking down to her long dress.

"I will wait here."

"Very well." she said and wanted to turn around to leave for the dressing room, but he gently grabbed her wrist.

"You need to hurry if we want to get away before the others join us." he said in a low voice.

"The others?" she asked a bit confused.

"My father wishes my brother and my cousin to accompany us." Boromir explained, still encircling her wrist with only his thumb and middle finger.

"But", he added with a meaningful undertone, letting go of her arm again, "I believe I did not notice anticipation upon their faces when my father told them so."

"I understand." Aerilyn said, a small smile spreading on her face. "I will hurry."


	2. the search

*** I'd like to say something to the negative reviews... Okay, first of all, of course I know that Boromir died in the books (and in the movie), but I decided to write a story in which he survived the journey of the fellowship. Excuse me, but I always thought that's what fanfiction is for?! I don't think my story is less "realistic" than many other stories that are posted here. I pointed out that I know it is far fetched that Aragorn refuses the crown, but: I read stories in which Boromir rapes Legolas or Aragorn has sex with Gandalf, now how far fetched is that?! (No offense to the people who wrote stories like that! Keep it up, guys!) In my opinion everybody can write what he or she wants to write, nobody forces you to read it if you don't like it! If you want to read a story in which everything happens exactly like it does in Tolkien's version... very well, read Tolkien's version and not fanfiction! And there's no reason to get rude, only because you don't like this  
story. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate negative criticism, but only as long as it is constructive and not stupid and insulting. And man, don't take fanfics so damn serious!! I write this only for fun, so relax a bit, okay?  
Last but not least, thanks a lot for the encouraging reviews! They keep me writing! :) ***  
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The sun was already setting when a lonely rider entered Gondor at high speed. He had come from far away, not only to witness the wedding ceremonies but also to see a good friend of his again. Finally reaching the gates of Minas Tirith, he gently forced his horse to slow down. The corners of his mouth moved only slightly to form a tiny smile when he saw people decorating the streets and houses for the huge festivities that were to start tomorrow. Slowly he entered the city.  
  
He did not come far until something caught his attention. A small group of riders was dashing along the road, shouting at the people to make way. The single rider moved his horse to the side of the street to make way like everybody else, but when the group came past him his eyes locked with the ones of one of them. Eyes that were familiar.  
  
"Wait!" the male human ordered his companions and made his big dark horse stop right next to the rider that had just arrived at Minas Tirith.  
  
"But we need to..." one of the other two men stated, but was silenced by a gesture of the man who had forced them to stop.  
  
"What a pleasure to see you, Legolas my friend," Aragorn said while the male elf made a respectful movement with his head to greet back.  
  
"Are you in trouble?" Legolas asked and shortly gazed at the other two men whose faces showed worried and inpatient expressions. A small smile spread on Aragorn's face.  
  
"You did not even arrive properly and already offer your help, after such a long and exhausting journey?" he asked teasing.  
  
"Of course. So what is it that troubles you?" Legolas demanded to know.  
  
"Boromir and his betrothed, Lady Aerilyn, set out for a ride this noon. They have not returned since and the sun is setting already."  
  
"Forgive me, Aragorn, but we are wasting precious time," the other one of the two riders pointed out.  
  
"You speak true words, Lord Atalar. Let's move," Aragorn said, his eyes still locked with Legolas'.  
  
"I will join you," the elf said immediately and so the group of four urged their horses to fasten up again.  
  
It was a few hours later and dark already when they found the first hint. They had split up the group, leaving Atalar with Aragorn while Legolas and Faramir rode alone, but they always kept within hearing.  
  
"What is it?" Aragorn wanted to know when Atalar suddenly jumped from his horse and knelt down on the ground of the wood. He picked up a piece of cloth, dark purple in color.  
  
"This belongs my sister," he said, rising on his feet again and showing the piece to Aragorn.  
  
"It is ripped," Aragorn stated. Atalar only nodded and got on back on his horse rapidly.  
  
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Legolas slowed down his horse when he reached a small clearing. His eyes had caught something that struck him, something that was lying in the grass, slightly shimmering although it was rather dark. He got off his horse and approached it slowly at first, but when he realized that it was a human body he increased the speed of his steps.  
  
She was lying on her side and did not move. Her pale skin that was in sharp contrast to her very dark long hair reflected the moonlight. Legolas knelt down next to her and carefully rolled her on her back, not paying attention to her nudity at all. He choked when he discovered the dagger that had been stabbed deeply in her chest. The dark blood that came from the wound was rather fresh, so the attack must have taken place not very long ago. Legolas looked around alarmed, ready to pull his weapon, but the woods remained silent. He looked back down to the young woman and then raised his head again to yell after the other ones. He just wanted to examine the woman and her wound more closely when Atalar cried out in pain and fell on his knees next to the body of his sister. When he said her name and touched her face she suddenly opened her eyes a bit. She had to struggle hard, but she managed to keep them open for a short time.  
  
"Lyn... speak, what happened to you?" Atalar asked softly, running a hand over her pale cheek.  
  
"Boromir..." she whispered exhaustedly and blinked with a lot of effort. Before she could bring out another word she coughed up some blood and then closed her eyes, not able to open them again. Legolas outstretched a hand, but before he reached her neck Atalar pushed him so hard that he almost fell on his back.  
  
"Do not touch her, elf!" he yelled.  
  
"I only want to..."  
  
"I said do not touch her! And do take your eyes off her, all of you!" Atalar interrupted and hurried to get off his cloak to cover Aerilyn's naked and injured body.  
  
"We need to find Boromir," Faramir exclaimed and wanted to climb his horse, but then twirled around when he heard Atalar say: "We need to find him quickly so I can make him pay for what he has done."  
  
"What are you talking about?!" Faramir hissed.  
  
Atalar glared at him, tears gathering in his dark eyes. He rose on his feet while he spoke, his voice full with pain and hate.  
  
"Boromir obviously took advantage of my beloved sister and then murdered her ruthlessly!"  
  
"You have no evidence for that!" Faramir replied furiously.  
  
"No evidence you say?! They went for this ride alone, nobody else who could have done it was with them! My sister's last word was Boromir!"  
  
"The name of the man who was about to be a good husband to her," Faramir said.  
  
"The name of the man who was a murderer to her! Am I the only one who sees the truth?!" Atalar hollered, "It is Boromir's dagger that brought death to my sister, is that not evidence enough?!"  
  
"Atalar, calm down," Aragorn said, honest sympathy in his voice.  
  
"No! Boromir did not only dishonor my sister with this horrifying deed but also my whole family! Whole Katalla! And you must admit, whole Gondor too! He deserves to die from my hand!"  
  
"Then you will have to kill me first! Come and try!" Faramir yelled and pulled his sword.  
  
"Stop it now!" Aragorn shouted and stepped between them.  
  
"It is not too late yet!" Legolas suddenly exclaimed, drawing the attention of all three men towoards him. Legolas locked gazes with Atalar and continued to speak.  
  
"Your sister is still alive, she is only unconscious. If we ride fast and bring her to the best healers she perhaps will survive. Her heart is young and strong."  
  
Aragorn nodded.  
  
"I will take her with me, my horse is the fastest."  
  
Atalar didn't complain when Aragorn finally was in the saddle, Aerilyn's slack body safe in his arms, wrapped in Atalar's dark cloak.  
  
"We will meet back at Minas Tirith. Legolas, make sure those two will not kill each other on your way back."  
  
"Yes, Aragorn. Good luck," Legolas replied.  
  
"We will need it," Aragorn responded and was gone a second later. 


	3. joining the company

*** A word to the review of Caylinn: I know what you mean, but it's really difficult. It's hard enough for me to write in English, but it's even harder to write in "old" style. I know I'm jumping from "old-fashioned" to "modern", but I can't change it. I really try my best, but I guess you will have to live with it as my English vocabulary is limited (especially the old fashioned ones they would use in Middle-Earth). I hope I will be able to improve my writing in future.

Everybody else who reviewed: Thank you so much, it means a lot!! :o)

Here's the next chapter, I hope you like it. Keep the reviews coming and have a nice day, everybody! ***

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Aragorn waited in front of the houses of healing for the other three to arrive. He sat on the cold stairs made of stone, his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his folded hands.

'She is so young,' he thought. Too young to die. He hoped he had been able to bring her to the healers in time to rescue her life that was just at its beginning. Now there was nothing he could do to help her, nothing apart from hoping and praying. He also hoped and prayed for Boromir. He wondered whether it was really possible that Atalar was right. He hoped it was not, but he could not tell for sure. Boromir was surely a noble man, but he also carried weakness in his heart. He was easily controlled by his feelings, not able to fight them back. But could it be that his weakness had made him try to kill a woman? He had to admit that there were hints that pointed at Boromir, but for now Aragorn refused to think of Boromir as a ruthless murderer who brought death to a young and innocent maiden. It needed more than a dagger and a whispered word to convince him. He still was caught up in his thoughts when he heard three horses approaching.

"What do they say? Will she live?" Atalar wanted to know when he had gotten off his horse and was by Aragorn's side.

"I do not know," Aragorn said and frowned when he saw that Legolas helped Boromir's brother getting to the ground and then started to support him while Faramir groaned in pain when he made contact with the street. The left side of Faramir's light trousers was partly ripped and soaked with blood.

"What happened?" Aragorn asked and rose from the stairs.

"An accident," Atalar muttered and wanted to vanish in the house, but Aragorn grabbed his arm and forced him to stay.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked and pierced the elf with a sharp gaze. Before Legolas could reply anything Faramir spoke.

"You heard Lord Atalar. Just an accident," he said. Aragorn could tell both that he lied and had to make quite some effort to hide that he was hurting badly.

Atalar ripped his arm out of Aragorn's grip and left the three alone on the dark road.

"Come, Lord Faramir, you need to be seen by the healers as well. This looks like a serious wound to me," Aragorn said with a sigh and stepped nearer to help Legolas supporting the younger son of Denethor.

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When Boromir regained consciousness again, the first things he noticed were that he was blindfolded and gagged. He instinctively straightened up and wanted to lift his hands to his face to free himself, but his wrists were tied together behind his back. A muffled sound of surprise made its way from his throat when he realized he was sitting on a horse that was slowly heading to some direction he couldn't even guess. He didn't know where he was or why. And with whom. Or was he alone? He tried to concentrate on the surrounding sounds. It wasn't easy as his mind was still recovering from the unconsciousness and he felt almost nothing than stupor and dizziness, but he could tell that there were more than only four hooves moving. Then there suddenly was a male voice to his right side.

"He woke up," the voice informed somebody.

"Now look at him, still the posture of a noble man, although tied up and surely scared to death," another male voice said, this time from the left, "Tell me, are you scared, Boromir of Gondor?"

Boromir turned his head to the direction the voice came from, although he couldn't see anything. He couldn't even tell whether it was day or night.

"I asked you a question, Lord Boromir," the voice said again with an amused undertone. A few other men laughed in low voices. 

"Don't you want to answer?!"

A sudden slap against the back of his head made Boromir jerk and move his body abruptly when he ducked away in reflex. The horse he was sitting on started to get nervous. He tried to keep in the saddle, but when the animal started to buck underneath him he didn't manage to keep his balance without the use of his arms. He was thrown from the horse's back and crashed to the dusty ground heavily, front side down. A groan of pain forced its way up his throat when his forehead made very hard contact with a sharp and solid item, probably some sort of stone. He heard massive laughter around him from several men, but still he couldn't tell how many exactly they were. He also wondered whether Aerilyn was somewhere here, too. Tied up, blindfolded and gagged just like he was. The worry about his betrothed ripped his heart into pieces, but there was nothing he could do. He could hardly move, hardly breathe, and not see anything at all. He never had been in a situation as humiliating as this one before.

"Get him up on the horse again, quickly," somebody said, still laughing.

Boromir heard two of his kidnappers jump from their horses and approach him with heavy steps. Strong hands grabbed him and pulled him up on his feet roughly.

"He is bleeding from a deep wound," a voice very near to his ear said, sounding a bit worried.

"I do not care. We will have to get rid of him as soon as the time has come, anyway. And now get him up on the horse!"

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"What are you going to tell your people, Steward? I do not think it would be wise to let the people know what really happened, this incident could lead us to a civil war. People of Katalla will start to accuse and fight the people of Gondor, and the other way round. But you need to tell them *something*, they all are awaiting the festivities," Aragorn asked Denethor when a small group had gathered around a large table to discuss the matters. When Denethor didn't respond but kept thinking about the question, Legolas raised his soft voice.

"Aragorn is right. No matter how fast our horses will carry us, I doubt we will find Lord Boromir in time. Besides, Lady Aerilyn lies near to death. The wedding can not take place."

"Of course it can not take place! And it never will! My sister will not bond with a murderer!" Atalar hissed from his chair.

"My son is not a murderer, Lord Atalar. Something terrible must have happened to both of them, Lady Aerilyn and Boromir," Denethor spoke.

"And I say it is him we have to blame! Boromir is well known for not being trustworthy!"

"That is not true!" Ghorid, the eldest son of Denethor's brother, said.

"You only say so because you are of the same blood! I do not trust any of your people!" Atalar exclaimed and moved his gaze back to Denethor. "I do not trust you, Steward of Gondor, neither do I trust your brood."

"Watch your mouth, or you will regret it!" Denethor roared, his eyes thin slits sparkling with fury. 

"Do you think I'm afraid of you?!" the young man replied, his voice not at all lower. 

"Atalar!" Ribensis, steward of Katalla, hissed with a threatening tone in his impressive voice to silence his hot-headed son.

"I will send out a company to find out what has happened. And hopefully it will not only return with answers but also with my living son," Denethor finally decided.

"Lord Faramir lies wounded, he can not come. I will go for him, in the name of the honorable family and Gondor," Ghorid stated without hesitating.

"I will come, too. And I swear by my father's empire, I will take deadly revenge if our journey reveals that Boromir's hands are covered with my sister's blood!" Atalar exclaimed. 

While Aerilyn's brother spoke Aragorn's gaze was searching for the eyes of Legolas. When they finally looked at each other, Legolas could easily read the silent question in Aragorn's eyes and nodded only once, blinking slowly in agreement.

"We will join the group too, for Boromir is a comrade who bravely fought by our sides and risked his life more than once to rescue one of us," Aragorn said, feeling the sharp gaze of Atalar on his face.

"Very well. The sooner you depart the better," Denethor said and rose from his chair to put an end to the discussion.


	4. blades of grass

*** This time only a short author's note. // indicates the beginning and ending of a flashback. And this is a pure Boromir-chapter. Aragorn & Legolas will be "on the screen" next one again. ***  
  
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Boromir didn't know for how long they had been travelling now. It seemed like an eternity to him and he felt more miserable with every minute passing by. He had seen dreadful things in his life, he had experienced horrible pain both physical and mentally, he had felt a lot of overwhelming emotions both positively and negatively. But what he felt right now was new to him. He was totally helpless, a status that never before had taken control over him. It drove him mad that he could not do anything, apart from just sitting, waiting and hoping. He was a man of deeds, and no matter what fate had brought him, he always had taken action to turn the life of his people, and with that his own life, to the better. His heart was brave and he was not afraid of pain and death. But the thought of not being able to intervene, not being able to take some action scared him.  
  
After some more hours that seemed like days to Boromir, the group of kidnappers decided to set up a camp. Somebody pulled him from the horse and dragged him a short distance with rough determination until he finally pushed Boromir to the ground, down on his knees.  
  
"Beware, Boromir of Gondor," the man spoke with a threat in his voice, "we will watch you all the time. If you try to escape, I swear to you, you will die the most painful death you can think of."  
  
Boromir heard the man join the others who obviously just started to make a campfire. They were not very close to him, but not really far away either. He knew it would be a very foolish idea to try to get away, and so he just remained seated on the cold ground and listened to the crackling of the fire and the voices of the people who had taken him from his home.  
  
Again it felt like a never ending moment, until suddenly one of the men came back to him.  
  
"Lie down and sleep," he ordered. Boromir didn't react. He couldn't fight them, but that didn't mean he had to do what they told him. He would not obey. He would not allow them to take away his last bit of dignity.  
  
"Lie down, I said! We have to go a long way tomorrow!" the man shouted getting angry and gave Boromir a hard push that made him fall on his side, but he sat up again only a second later. Boromir's defiance was answered with a hard punch in his face. A sharp pain exploded on his nose and he felt blood bursting from his nostrils. But he remained in position, not willing to subordinate, much to the fury of the man who was beating on him.  
  
"You bastard of a nobleman!" he screamed in pure hate and kicked Boromir in his stomach, "Lie down now and rest!"  
  
Boromir tried to ignore the pain and struggled to keep his balance while he was beaten up, but after a moment the massive impact of another very hard kick made him collapse to the ground. The torment didn't stop, even now as he was lying there defeated.  
  
"Stop it! Do you want to kill him?!" another man yelled from further away.  
  
"Why not?!" the furious answer was, going together with another kick.  
  
"Not now! Not here! And now stop it!"  
  
Boromir was left lying on the hard ground, flames of pain licking through his body. He didn't move and just lay still, feeling the cold blades of grass tickling the skin of his face that was starting to swell with bruises. He concentrated on this soft and light sensation and the sweet memories that came with it, perhaps it could make him forget about the pain and humiliation...  
  
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//  
  
Blades of grass were tickling his naked skin, the chilly breeze of the wind was wafting over his body, but he did not feel cold. Her tender caresses and loving kisses heated him up, making his whole body glow with passion. Her skin was so soft, her body so delicate. He inhaled her sweet scent, relished her heavenly taste and enjoyed the touch of her skin against his. He knew she was young, but she proved to him that she indeed was no child anymore. Not at all.  
  
They both had not wanted this to happen. Not now, one day before their wedding. They both knew that it was not right. That they had to wait. They both had not expected that in the end their desire would be stronger than their rational thinking...  
  
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This was all his fault. If he had taken his brother Faramir and his cousin Ghorid with him like his father had wished, this never would have happened. They both were great warriors and together with them he would have been able to protect Aerilyn. If anything had happened to her he would hate himself for the rest of time.  
  
The blood that came from and was in his nose slowly started to dry, making it even harder for him to breathe, but he almost didn't notice it. The memories alone occupied his mind. Everything he could think of was her pretty face, her sweet voice, her silky skin. And her laughter that always made his heart melt. He feared that he never would hear it again.  
  
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//  
  
"This place is truly beautiful," Aerilyn said overwhelmed.  
  
"Nothing compared to your beauty," Boromir replied. She blushed a bit and smiled shyly. They rode next to each other for a while until she suddenly said: "Can we go faster, my Lord? I have not been on a horse since our arrival at Gondor."  
  
When she saw the expression on Boromir's face she added: "I tell you I am a splendid rider. I will not fall."  
  
"I do not want you to hurt yourself."  
  
"I will not fall," she repeated a bit offended, "Let me prove to you. Or are you afraid that my riding skills could be better than yours?"  
  
He laughed and said: "I do not think so, my dearest. I am well experienced on this matter."  
  
"Is that so? I want to see. Let us compare," she said teasing, a small grin on her face.  
  
He was speechless for a second but then a smile spread on his face.  
  
"As you wish, my Lady, we..."  
  
He hadn't even finished with the sentence he wanted to say when she speeded away on her horse, leaving a startled Boromir behind. He decided to give her a good start so she was in advantage. He would catch up soon anyway, he was sure about that. When she finally vanished behind some trees and his eyes lost her he urged his horse after her.  
  
Suddenly there was a scream that made heavy worry well in his heart. He rode as fast as he could and hurried to get from his horse when he discovered her lying on the ground.  
  
"Aerilyn!" he yelled when he was on his knees by her side, scared that she was badly injured from the fall. Her eyes were closed and she didn't move. He said her name again, and again there was no reaction. He carefully pushed his arms under her and easily lifted her up when he rose on his feet.  
  
"You are easily fooled for a well experienced warrior," she suddenly said, raising her head and looking at him with an amused sparkle in her eyes.  
  
He wanted to say something but was so confused that he didn't get a word out. Then he started to feel angry because she had managed to fool him indeed. But finally the huge relief was stronger and he couldn't do anything else than holding her on his arms and kiss her. While he slowly lay her down on the ground again, not stopping to kiss her, she closed her arms around his neck and softly pulled him even closer. After a few moments of tenderness he disconnected from her lips again and backed away a bit so he could see her face. When he moved his arm to run a hand through her curly hair a necklace fell from the neckline of his clothes and started to swing in front of her face. She carefully took the amulet that was attached to it in her hand and looked at it closely. He watched her silently.  
  
"This is wonderful," Aerilyn finally said.  
  
"It is from my mother," he explained, his voice low. She looked up, the charm still in her hand.  
  
"Tell me about her," she demanded with a soft tone in her voice.  
  
"There is not much to tell," Boromir said and cleared his throat as his voice started to get husky. When Aerilyn didn't respond anything but kept looking at him expectantly he continued to speak.  
  
"Her name was Finduilas and she was the daughter of Adrahil, prince of Dol Amroth. She was very beautiful and warmhearted, a good wife to my father and a good mother to Faramir and me."  
  
"When did she die?"  
  
"I was ten, Faramir four."  
  
"It must have been hard for you."  
  
"It was my father who suffered the most," Boromir abruptly took the amulet from Aerilyn's hand and let it vanish in his clothes again.  
  
"I apologize for asking. I have no right to be so blunt, please forgive me," Aerilyn said and moved her head to the side to escape his gaze.  
  
"Aerilyn...," he said with a sigh and gently forced her to look at him again, "you may ask me whatever you wish to ask. And I always will be honest with you. Tell me you know I say the truth."  
  
"Yes, my Lord. I know you will treat me more than good."  
  
"Please, call me by my name," he begged, his hand still resting on the side of her head.  
  
"Boromir," she said with a slight smile, wiping a strand of hair from his face. He smiled back and she closed her eyes when he bent down and lowered his lips on hers to kiss her devotedly. The kiss was harder this time and he pulled her close to his body in a loving embrace. Her heart started racing as she had never been kissed like this before. When he felt her moan softly against his lips he worked one of his hands under her clothes and gently ran it over her bare back, sending shivers up her spine.  
  
"What if somebody passes by?" she suddenly asked breathlessly.  
  
"Nobody will come," Boromir replied, kissing her face.  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
He backed away again, locking gazes with her.  
  
"You do not need to fear it," he said, not referring to people who could discover them, "I will not hurt you. Never."  
  
"I know," she replied, "but we are not married yet. We have to wait."  
  
"We will be married in less than only a day. I am tired of waiting..."  
  
He bent down again and softly brushed his lips over the sensitive skin of her neck. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the beautiful sensation.  
  
"Me too. I want to be all yours," she said and then added in a whisper, "I want to please you, but I do not know how."  
  
"Do not worry, Aerilyn. I will show you," he said and then sealed her mouth with a passionate kiss before she could reply anything...  
  
The desire took control quickly and so they proceeded, not wasting any thoughts on not being married yet or getting surprised by somebody. And the blades of grass were tickling their skin while they were making love...  
  
//  
  
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The clear images of his memories changed into a blur when he started to feel dizzy because he couldn't get enough air to breathe. He struggled hard, but the dried blood blocked his nose and he felt that he would suffocate soon. When he started to move heavily in order to try to get rid of the gag he caught the attention of the kidnappers again. He didn't even hear that one of them came closer, he was too much caught up in his fight with death. As soon as the man removed the gag Boromir inhaled more than he could take. The sudden and massive intake of breath made him cough heavily and the cold air sent a sharp pain through his throat down to his lungs. When he had calmed down again and breathed more controlled, the man spoke to him.  
  
"If I hear only one word from your lips I will cut your tongue out of your mouth."  
  
Knowing that the threat was serious he remained lying on the ground silently, but his worried and tortured soul did not find any sleep this night. 


	5. leaving behind

*** Thank you everybody for saying my English is good. I *so* wish my former English teacher from back at school could see all those reviews!!! :o) I'm like... bursting with pride now, haha!! ;o)  
  
Now on with the story, let's see how Aragorn and Legolas are doing... ***  
  
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Several days and nights had passed since their departure from Minas Tirith, Gondor. The traces they had found had told them that Boromir had not left alone. There were at least five men with him, if not even more. Now the question was whether these men had taken him with them against his will or whether they were hand in glove with Boromir. No matter which way it was, the company of four was on the right track. The group they were chasing after obviously tried to cover up its tracks, but they were always able to find at least a tiny hint that showed them the right direction. The only problem that occurred was that they obviously were too slow, although they hardly ever rested. It was peculiar. The other group seemed to be one step ahead all the time.  
  
"We need to set up a camp," Legolas said to Aragorn in a low voice, "We have ridden for almost two days now, the horses will break down if we do not rest soon."  
  
"I know, Legolas. It is not me who you need to convince," Aragorn replied and glanced at the back of Atalar who was riding in front of them, while Ghorid was behind them. The two noblemen did only feel distrust for the other one and therefore tried to ignore each other. This produced an uncomfortable atmosphere, but Aragorn was just glad that he did not have to prevent them from fighting or even killing each other anymore. The first two days of their journey they had been insulting each other all of the time, pulling their swords more than once, ready to fight until the very end. Fortunately they slowly had started to calm down, and now they were just avoiding each other.  
  
"Go and speak to him, he will not listen to me," Legolas said. And so Aragorn did. Atalar was not fond of the idea to set up a camp, he didn't want to waste precious time, but they finally made a compromise and after two more hours, when it was dark, they stopped to rest.  
  
While Atalar and Ghorid were busy with making sure they would not sleep exactly next to each other, Aragorn went over to Legolas who was just providing his horse with water.  
  
"Did you notice anything?" he asked low enough so the others could not hear it.  
  
"What are you speaking of?" Legolas asked, not taking his gaze from his horse.  
  
"I have the feeling that we are being followed and observed."  
  
"Yes," the elf stated calmly, caressing the neck of the white horse, "Wolves. They are following us since yesterday morning."  
  
"Do you think they will attack us?" Aragorn asked, looking around alarmed, but the woods were silent and it was too dark to see anything.  
  
"Maybe. They are hungry, that is the reason they are following us. They will not attack as long as we are strong opponents, but they sense that we are getting exhausted, especially our horses. They are waiting for the right moment."  
  
Legolas looked up and met Aragorn's eyes.  
  
"If we are lucky we will be out of the woods before their hunger is stronger than their fear," he added.  
  
The wolves continued to follow them also the next day, and their number grew with every hour. Every now and then the members of the small company could see one or two of the huge but rather skinny gray animals vanish between the trees or move behind the bushes to their sides. But they did not dare to attack. Not yet.  
  
The moment came during the night, when they had set up another camp. Aragorn was just keeping watch while the others were sleeping when there suddenly was a cracking coming from somewhere rather near. Something was moving in the woods, and it was coming closer. Aragorn rose on his feet and listened, holding his breath. Suddenly there were sounds and noises from all sides, all coming nearer rapidly. They were surrounded.  
  
"To the weapons!" Aragorn yelled loudly and pulled his sword. While Legolas was wide awake and on his feet immediately, the other two needed a few seconds to realize what was happening. Before anybody could say one more word the attack began.  
  
They were coming from everywhere, and they were a lot. It was not difficult to kill a single wolf, but this large number threatened to overpower them. They fought fast and concentrated, everyone of them on his own, slaying one animal after the other. Legolas had climbed a tree from where he could oversee the scenery and shot his arrows accurately. He saw that Aragorn did well and shifted his gaze to Ghorid who was fighting with two swords, one in each hand, and he moved both ones with pure and beautiful perfection. Legolas appreciated this stunning skill of Boromir's cousin, but there was no time to watch and admire. He was attacked by far more wolves he was able to fight back all on his own. They had gotten hold of his legs and arms, trying to get him down to the ground so they could reach his throat and face. It was only a matter of seconds until they would succeed and get through Ghorid's armor. Legolas quickly got another two arrows out of the quiver and, for no  
particular reason, let his gaze wander to another spot for only a second...  
  
He felt a sting going through his heart when he saw that several wolves were about to tear his horse to pieces, lowering their sharp teeth deep into the white, strong body of the graceful animal. He had to make a decision, and so he did. A few moments later the attacking creatures sank to the ground, dying, and Ghorid was released. When Legolas looked back to his horse, expecting it to lie ripped to death, he caught the sight of Atalar who had already gotten rid of more than half of the wolves that were harming the white horse, and now pulled one of them from its bleeding body with his bare hands and then slaughtered it to death. He also got rid of the other ones and remained next to Legolas' horse, protecting it from the hungry, approaching creatures.  
  
They fought for a little eternity, but finally most of the pack was lying dead on the ground, and the few others that still lived withdrew back to the depths of the dark woods.  
  
"Is anybody wounded?" Aragorn asked, wiping fresh sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.  
  
"Ghorid?" he added when nobody replied.  
  
"It's just a scratch," the huge and sturdy warrior replied.  
  
"Let me see," Aragorn demanded, wanting to help, but Ghorid repeated: "I told you it is only a scratch, Aragorn."  
  
Aragorn nodded and stuck his sword back to the scabbard. It did not look like a scratch to him, but he could not force Ghorid to show it to him.  
  
While they were speaking, Legolas jumped from the tree and ran to his horse. Blood was running down the white fur, coming from deep wounds that revealed the muscular flesh of the beautiful animal. It was injured at several parts of its body, but the worst damage was done at the flanks. Legolas got hold of the reins, trying to calm the scared horse down, speaking soft words to it and carefully touching its head. When it stood still, the soft nostrils brushed against Legolas' palm, the elf turned his head to face his companions.  
  
"I will have to care for the wounds of my horse, it can not carry me for now," he stated.  
  
"How long do you believe it will take for your horse to heal?" Ghorid asked.  
  
"I cannot tell. I need to find some particular plants. And the wounds need to close, it will take some time," Legolas replied.  
  
"Then we will all stay and wait," Aragorn decided.  
  
"No!" Atalar blurted out, "That is a waste of time!"  
  
"We do not have an extra horse, we need *this* one!" Aragorn exclaimed, gesturing at Legolas' horse.  
  
"The elf can care for his horse by himself and then catch up!" Atalar yelled back.  
  
"We will not leave him behind!"  
  
"If we stay here for a few days we will lose the tracks!"  
  
"I said we will not leave him behind!"  
  
"Aragorn," Legolas interrupted the dispute, "Lord Atalar is right, I would be only a burden to our journey now. You need to find Boromir. I can very well take care of myself. Go and continue with the search, I will catch up soon."  
  
"No... I will not leave you alone with an injured horse and a bunch of hungry wolves," Aragorn said and stepped closer to Legolas who showed a small smile, touched by Aragorn's concern.  
  
"We will meet again in only a few days, my friend. Do not worry," Legolas said softly.  
  
Aragorn only nodded and then said: "Very well, we will continue with our journey at dawn. But for now we need to find a new place to stay for the rest of the night, I do not feel the urge to sleep between dozens of cadavers."  
  
They soon found an appropriate place and while the others lay down to rest, Legolas started to care for his horse. He did not need as much sleep as the human men and he had to be quick with this when he really wanted to catch up again.  
  
"Aragorn..." he said surprised when the human man suddenly stood next to him in the darkness.  
  
"I will help you," he said.  
  
"You need to rest," Legolas replied.  
  
"Your horse needs to heal quickly. We can not afford to go on without you for a long time. Your skills are important for the company," Aragorn stated and then, after a short moment of silence, added, "We need to stay together in the group, these woods are dangerous for a lonely man. And I do not wish to lose you."  
  
Legolas nodded softly.  
  
"I appreciate your help."  
  
They still were cleaning the deep wounds and providing them with healing essences they had produced of plants from the woods when the other two got up to set out again.  
  
"May your horse heal quickly, Legolas," Ghorid said after he had climbed his own horse.  
  
"Remember, you promised to meet us in a few days again. We will be awaiting you," Aragorn said, still worry in his voice.  
  
"Yes, I will come," Legolas replied and then watched the two men riding away.  
  
"Farewell, elf," Atalar said without looking at Legolas when he rode past him, following the others.  
  
"Wait...," Legolas said and grabbed the dark horse's reins to stop it, "I need to thank you from the bottom of my heart, Lord Atalar."  
  
"What for?" he asked with an odd tone in his voice and shifted his gaze down to Legolas.  
  
"My horse lives thanks to you. I saw you protecting it with all your strength, and for that I will always be grateful," Legolas said, bowing his head slightly to show his respect.  
  
Atalar stared at the elf for a few seconds, his dark eyes not revealing what he felt, and then said:  
  
"I need to depart now. Farewell, Legolas."  
  
"Farewell," Legolas replied, being well aware of the fact that Atalar had called him by his name for the first time since they had met.  
  
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*** Oh, I wanted to say one more thing. If anybody thinks (or hopes) there are hints of slash between Aragorn and Legolas in this story, let me tell you: You thought wrong! This is NOT going to end with an Aragorn/Legolas-coupling as I am definitely no fan of slash between those two characters. I'm just a supporter of a very, very close, true and deep (and platonic!!) friendship between them. Thanks for reading. (And reviewing!) *** 


	6. remembering

*** Referring to the review of Winterfox: If a person is stabbed in the chest, the lungs are not necessarily flooded with blood. But even if there's blood in the lungs, the person is (in most cases) able to speak at least a few words, if not even more. I asked my boyfriend who is a paramedic and has to care for people who got stabbed every now and then, I guess he knows what he's talking about. So much for that. 

Guess what, I have a beta-reader now. So I really would like to thank my beta for reading through my work and helping me so much! Thank you, Anne!!! :ox

Somebody (Alon, I think) asked whether or not Boromir and Aerilyn got to "finish their business" before the kidnappers got them. Now here comes the answer... hope you enjoy it. ;o) ***

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Slowly Aerilyn opened her eyes and could only see a blur. Her whole body was aching and it was hard to keep her eyelids open. Her mouth was totally dry and she had problems swallowing. She softly groaned when she tried to move and felt a wave of pain washing through her body. 

Where was she? What had happened? She lay still, trying to ignore the terrible headache and the sharp pain in her chest so she could concentrate on her thoughts and search her mind for memories. Slowly bits and pieces came back. She remembered Boromir's loving kisses, the passionate expression in his green eyes, his tender caresses. And his voice that was so full of courage, strength and determination, but yet so soft and comforting to her ears. 

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//

"We will be married in less than only a day. I am tired of waiting...," he said, his voice thick with desire, as he kissed her neck. His lips softly brushed over her skin and his short beard tickled her slightly. She closed her eyes and concentrated on this unexpectedly wonderful sensation.

"Me too. I want to be all yours," she heard herself say, surprised at her own words. But it was true, she wanted it so badly. But she was not sure what to do. What did he expect? She was afraid that he would not like it, or that he would laugh about her clumsiness due to her lack of experience. She wanted to make him happy and was scared that she would fail.

"I want to please you, but I do not know how," she whispered, a blush creeping over her face. He backed away a bit and smiled when he saw the huge concern in her eyes. 

"Do not worry, Aerilyn. I will show you." 

She wanted to reply somehow, but he captured her lips quickly and stifled her words with a slow and deep kiss. He produced feelings inside of her she had not known of before. Aerilyn felt like vanishing inside his fiery kisses and melting underneath his caressing hands. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when he carefully moved his hands to spots of her delicate body that had been untouched yet. A low groan escaped from her lips when his fingertips gently ran over the soft curve of her breast. His touch was light as a feather, but the effect it had on her was massive. She felt her body starting to react heavily to his caresses and kisses. 

She wanted to touch him like he touched her, please him like he pleased her, but her hands were too shaky to get his clothes open. Her shivering fingers struggled with buckles, straps and buttons, trying to get through to his skin. But the harder she tried, the more nervous she got. When his hands joined hers to help she opened her eyes again and stopped kissing him.

"I am sorry," she whispered. 

"What for?" he asked in confusion, undressing the upper part of his body. 

She was ashamed that she was so clumsy because of her excitement, not even able to get the largest buckle of his clothes open by herself. This was only the beginning of what was to come, and she already failed. He surely would be greatly disappointed...

She could not speak out loud her fears, but it was not necessary because Boromir could read it in her eyes. He took one of her hands, lifted it to his face to gently kiss her palm and then put it on his bare chest, holding it tight to his glowing skin. A little smile spread on her face when she felt his heart pounding madly. 

"See?" he asked softly, "You are not the only one here who is overexcited and nervous." 

She freed her hand from his tender grip and then framed his face with both of her hands, pulling his head down again until their noses touched. 

"I love you," he suddenly whispered and Aerilyn felt tears of joy welling in her eyes. She could not say anything, and so she demonstrated her strong feelings for him with a kiss that took his breath away.

//

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Tears started to fall when the memories came back, but this time there were no tears of joy, but tears of grief and fear. Would she ever again hear him declare his love for her, and in return tell him she felt the same? Would she ever again sense his skin upon her skin, his lips upon her lips? If not, would she ever be able to love again? She knew she would never feel these deep and true emotions for another man. If anything happened to Boromir he would leave her behind with a heart broken for eternity, too heavily ripped to ever heal again. 

"May I sit with you and share your sorrow?" a voice suddenly came from behind her. She turned her head abruptly, startled to see Faramir standing right next to the bed. She had been too caught up in her thoughts and had not heard him enter the room. 

"Yes," she only said, wiping away her tears. She fought hard to prevent them from continuing to flow as she was rather embarrassed to cry in front of her Lord's brother. Faramir sat down on the corner of her bed and took both of her hands in his. He stared down at them, softly stroking the back of her hands with his thumbs. 

"I am glad and relieved you woke up," he told her. She didn't respond as she was still concentrating on keeping back the tears. 

"Do you remember anything?" Faramir asked after a long moment of silence at he looked up to her face. She could hear the tension and desperation in his voice when he spoke, and he pierced her with an expectant gaze full of hope. 

"Yes, I do," Aerilyn replied, her voice only a whisper. 

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//

She watched in amazement how an intense wave of pleasure washed through Boromir and took control over him completely, sending shivers up and down his body while his muscles tensed heavily. He shut his eyes tight and couldn't suppress a groan of relief. When it forced its way out of his mouth his hot breath tickled her ear and the fingers of his right hand locked with hers, squeezing them tight. The strong outburst was gone as quickly as it had started and he sank down on her body, breathing heavily. She felt that his body started to relax again, and when his hand stopped to grasp her own she softly pulled it from his now exhausted grip to embrace him with both arms. When he had caught his breath again after a few moments he wanted to let his body roll from hers, but she held to him tightly and quickly wrapped her legs around his waist to prevent him from withdrawing. 

"Please, stay like this for a little longer," she begged in a low voice. She wanted to feel the throbbing heat between her thighs and his glowing skin pressed against hers for a few more moments. She wanted their bodies to remain fused and enjoy the sensation of loving intimacy. 

"I am too heavy for you," he replied and softly kissed her lips. 

"May I be on top then?" she asked. Boromir couldn't help smiling and then turned around on his back, holding her body in his arms, until she sat on top of him. She lowered the upper part of her body and snuggled up against his heaving chest, burying her face in the warm and soft hollow between his neck and shoulder. 

"Do you feel well?" he asked with concern, running his hand over her slender back that was partly streaked with earth and grass as he had pressed her to the ground heavily during the last hours. 

"Yes, very well. And you, my Lord, do you feel well?" she asked back with her eyes still closed. When she heard him chuckle softly she had to smile too.

"I believe I never felt better in my life so far," he said dreamily, winding one of her dark curls around his finger. And so they remained lying on the ground together for a wonderful while, enjoying the peace and bliss of the moment silently. 

"We need to go back soon," Boromir finally said. Aerilyn only gave a small and disappointed sigh, her breath hot against his skin. 

"The sun will set soon and it starts to get cold."

"I do not feel cold when I am close to you," Aerilyn said and let herself glide next to him on the grass. When he rose her gaze ranged over his frame, trying to capture every curve, every muscle, every scar his body revealed. She watched him getting his clothes back on, layer after layer, quickly closing all buckles and straps with proficient fingers. 

"So, my Lady, you wish to go back to Minas Tirith all naked?" he asked with a grin. She blushed slightly because he had noticed that she was staring. 

"Here..." he said, squatted down to her level and handed her a purple piece of her clothes that lay spread all around the spot they had made love in minutes ago. As soon as she had pulled it over her head he leaned closer and kissed her, his hand running around the back of her neck.

"If you kiss me every time I put the next piece on, I will not be finished with dressing before dawn," Aerilyn said with a smile. Boromir backed away a bit and chuckled, a cheerful sparkle in his eyes. She grabbed some more clothes of hers but didn't shift her gaze from his face. 

Suddenly something happened that made her frown in confusion. The expression in his eyes turned from joyful to painful, his soft chuckle changed to a gasp of both surprise and anguish. Before she could ask what was wrong he twirled around and she covered her mouth with one of her hands to suppress a scream of shock when she saw that an arrow had penetrated the upper part of his back. It was a rather small one, obviously not designed for the purpose of killing. Boromir tried to get up on his feet to pull his sword, but his legs didn't carry him anymore and he all of a sudden broke down back on his knees in front of his betrothed. The world started to spin around him and he blinked hardly to keep his mind and thoughts clear. The poison worked fast. 

"Aerilyn..." Boromir panted and grabbed her wrist. 

"What is happening?" she whispered in panic when she saw some men approaching quickly. Two of them had already gotten hold of their horses. 

"Listen Aerilyn, you need to get away. Try to flee." A shiver ran through his body and she saw that his eyelids started to flutter as he fought against the faint that tried to overwhelm him. 

"No, I will not leave you," she declared and then jerked when his grip got so firm that it hurt and his sharp gaze seemed to pierce her. 

"Do as I tell you!" he hissed, his eyes suddenly dark and intimidating. She knew he was not willing to have any arguments about it. As soon as he let go of her arm she rose and started running. She looked back in fear and saw how a few men knocked the heavily tranquilized Boromir out and lifted his limp body up in the air to carry him away. And she saw that one of the men was chasing after her. She didn't notice that tears were streaming down her face, she didn't notice that the soles of her bare feet were starting to bleed, she didn't notice that she had no idea in which direction she should run. Massive fear was the only thing that occupied her mind and made her move. 

She cried out when the man got hold of the fine fabric of her top and struggled hard to get rid of her attacker. The fabric ripped with a loud sound and she almost fell when she was released so suddenly. Despite the fact that her pursuer was far stronger and faster than she, Aerilyn continued to run, driven by pure dread. When she reached a small clearing, the attacker threw himself on her back and made them crash to the ground together. A wail came from Aerilyn's mouth when the huge weight of the man crushed her torso and she heard one of her ribs crack. She would have screamed at the top of her lungs, but she had not enough air to develop a strong voice. The man turned her around on her back roughly, still pinning her down to the ground with his heaviness. She tried to hit him, but he easily captured both of her wrists with only one hand and pressed them down over her head. 

"Please, let me go," she begged while heavy sobs made her whole body shake. When she saw the dagger in his other hand her eyes widened in mortal agony and she took a deep breath to scream for help, but before she had a chance the blade was thrust in her chest with one strong and abrupt movement. The overwhelming pain took her breath away and instead of the scream there was only a tiny whimper escaping her throat. 

Everything turned into a blur as dizziness and tiredness slowly took control of her mind and body. The last thing Aerilyn saw was the cold expression in the assassin's eyes, so full of hatred that she couldn't stand the sight and closed her own eyes tightly. Her mind was drawn into unconsciousness quickly, and she only could escape the darkness again for a few moments when she heard the voice of her dear brother. 

// 

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"Your brother and my cousin set out to find Boromir. They are accompanied by Aragorn and Legolas, two men greatly experienced in battle. They will bring my brother back to Minas Tirith, and he will live," Faramir said soothingly. 

"How can you be sure?" Aerilyn replied in a low and shaky voice.

"Boromir is brave and strong, he survived worse threats than this one."

"I hope you are right, Lord Faramir," she said and couldn't fight back the tears any longer. 

"Do not cry, Lady Aerilyn. Tears do not suit a pretty face like yours." 

She had to laugh softly about this statement, but the low chuckle quickly changed into a heavy sob and she freed her hands from his grip to cover her face with them. Faramir felt the urge to pull her into a protecting embrace, but she was not allowed to move or be moved as the wound in her chest was still healing and in danger of breaking open again. He put a hand upon her head and softly caressed her until she had calmed down a bit again. 

"I will go and tell your father that you regained consciousness again. He surely wishes to see you and also send out a messenger who brings the gratifying news about your wellbeing to your brother Lord Atalar." 

"Please stay for a little longer, Lord Faramir. I do not wish to be alone now," Aerilyn whispered, exhausted from the crying. 

Faramir didn't reply, but he remained seated, stroking her dark hair soothingly and holding her hand until she had fallen asleep again. Even now as she was sleeping the tears didn't cease.

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*** Before anybody starts complaining about the color of Boromir's eyes: I know that Boromir has gray eyes in the books! But in this story I picture him like in the movie, and the wonderful and very talented Sean Bean has eyes colored in green.

A few people asked whether I could inform them via e-mail every time I post a new chapter of this story, so I set up a mailing list. If anybody wants to join it, just tell me so in a review and leave your e-mail address, or drop me a line (Galbadia@gmx.net). ***


	7. unexpected encounter

*** Cath Sith: Wow, your German is good!! :o) And thank you everybody for all those awesome reviews!!!

I got a few e-mails from people who tried to convince me to change this into Aragorn/Legolas-slash, so I changed the summary and pointed out (again) that this will not be a slash story. Honestly, I have nothing against slash, not at all! I enjoy quite some slash fics (as long as they are written well, like the ones of Riley and torturedwriter for example, I love those ones!), but I don't want to include it in this story. In my opinion it wouldn't fit in at all. So please, stop asking me to put sexual encounters between Aragorn and Legolas in here! Thank you! ***

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Since the day Boromir had almost suffocated, the kidnappers had not gagged him again. He still was blindfolded and the rope around his wrists continued to make his skin sore, but his mouth remained released. Boromir had not spoken one single word during the few days that had passed since the incident, but he listened well. The kidnappers had slowly started to make more conversation while they rode to wherever they planned to bring him and Boromir had caught every word. He now knew that there were seven men and he could distinguish their voices and had discovered rather big differences in their characters. Boromir easily had found out who was the leader of the group. And he had found out which one of the men was most likely to betray his comrades and perhaps help him to flee. It was the youngest member of the group and therefore probably easily to manipulate.

"I can see the river," the leader suddenly said as if there was a big meaning to it. After a pause he added, "We will rest a few minutes once we've reached it."

The others agreed with grateful murmurs. Soon Boromir could hear the sound of water flowing fast and he immediately got even more thirsty than he was already. They gave him very little to drink, not even every day. It was far too less to let him regain some energy, but enough to keep him alive. He had not eaten anything since the assault in the woods and felt weaker with every day.

Once again he was roughly pulled from the horse and thrown to the ground. When he noticed that all the kidnappers and the horses were obviously at the shore of the river and he was alone he started to fumble with the rope that tied him up. The knots were well made and very firm, but he managed to loosen one of them a tiny bit. Before he had a chance to open another knot he heard steps approaching him quickly. He clenched his teeth in expectation to be beaten again, but nothing like that happened. Somebody squatted down next to him and put a hand around the backside of his head. When something cold touched his dry lips he tried to back away, but the hand kept him in position.

"Only water. Drink," a young voice said. The water was very cold and it was painful when it ran down his throat, but Boromir couldn't help drinking greedily until there was nothing left.

"Thank you," he forced himself to say. His voice was hoarse and low as these were the two first words he had spoken in many days. He cleared his throat while he waited for a reply, but there was none. He could feel that the man watched him closely, but he didn't say a word. Boromir tried hard to think of something he could say to make the man speak. This was perhaps his only chance to build up a conversation with the only kidnapper who seemed to be in doubts about what they were doing and obviously had a conscience. Or at least a heart that was able to feel for the victim. Boromir parted his lips to speak, but suddenly the man whispered: "I will try to get you something to eat."

"Why?" Boromir asked back in a low voice, "Why are you doing this for me?"

"We shall not talk. Better be quiet, Boromir of Gondor."

"What is your name?" Boromir wanted to know.

"I can not tell you. And now hush," he whispered.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" an angry voice hollered from the shore of the river. It was the voice of their leader. The young man at Boromir's side rose on his feet while the head of the group approached them quickly.

"How dare you talking to him, you fool?!" he screamed furiously when he had joined them.

"I just..."

"Shut up!"

The slap was heavy, but the beaten man didn't make a single noise. He accepted the punishment silently.

"Did I allow you to bring him water?!" the leader yelled. Another slap, harder this time. "I asked you a question, boy!"

"No, sir, you did not," was the low reply.

"Correct, I did not!"

When the third bash hit the face of the young man words broke from Boromir's lips.

"Stop beating on him, he is only a boy!"

"You are not in the position to give any orders!" the kidnapper responded angrily and kicked Boromir in his ribs.

"I am sorry, sir. But he was thirsty and..."

"Thirsty you say?!" the leader interrupted and then pulled Boromir on his feet, "You are right, we shall help this poor nobleman and make him feel comfortable! Come, my dear Lord Boromir, and drink as much as you wish!"

He violently dragged Boromir with him until they reached the shore of the river and then pushed him hard. Boromir stumbled forwards, not able to keep his balance and fell into the cold water. The river was not very deep and he could easily reach the soft ground with his feet, but before he could stand up properly again a strong hand grabbed the back of his neck and ducked him roughly. Boromir struggled hard and moved heavily, but he just couldn't free his head. Water entered his nose, his lungs started to ache and he felt panic rising inside of him. Just before he thought he would faint, his head was abruptly pulled out of the water again. He inhaled so heavily that he almost hyperventilated.

"I believe he is still thirsty!" the cold voice of the kidnapper's leader came from somewhere from the shore. Before Boromir could take one more breath he was forced down under the surface of the water again. While he was trying to fight against the hands of his opponent with the use of his whole body he noticed that the water was helping him loosening the rope around his wrists. He tugged at it like mad and finally managed to pull out one hand with great efforts and massive pain. He did not care that the skin of the back of his hand was ripped open, he did not care that one of his fingers seemed to break when he freed it violently. He was not going to let this man drown him.

Boromir's hand shot to the wrist of the man's hand that was holding him down and grabbed it tightly, turning it as far around as he could with a very strong and abrupt movement. He felt bones cracking underneath his firm grip and the man cried out in pain and let go. Boromir was released. He quickly ripped the rope of his other hand and got rid of the blindfold. The bright sun hurt his eyes as he had seen nothing than total darkness for many days. Then, when his eyes slowly got used to the light, the first thing he saw was a fist flying towards his face. A sharp pain exploded on his left cheekbone and he almost fell backwards from the massive impact of the punch. He only kept his balance because he grabbed the arm of his attacker. Boromir pulled the man closer and knocked his own head against the other one's face. A flood of blood burst from the kidnappers broken nose and he winced, but still continued to fight. The other ones watched the whole scene being rather amused and only interfered when Boromir had managed to be the one in the lead. Now he was the one who ducked a man under water, trying to drown him in the cold river.

Two men joined them in the water, pulled Boromir from the body of their comrade and dragged him back to the shore. When Boromir tried to fight them as well, one of them pulled a dagger and pressed it against Boromir's neck to make him go calm again.

"Why didn't you do something to help me?!" the man who had been fighting with Boromir asked furiously once he was at the shore, too. "Look at my face!"

"Stop whining! The only reason why I did not let him kill you is that it is too much effort to carry a corpse with us and we can't leave your dead body behind!" the leader yelled at him and then turned around to face Boromir. It was the first time they were face to face, looking one another in the eyes.

"Not bad, Boromir of Gondor, really not bad," he said and squatted down. Then he raised his arm and grabbed Boromir's jaw with a gloved hand. The lock of his strong fingers was firm and painful, but Boromir did not try to back away. He returned the cold stare that pierced his own eyes.

"I have to admit that I am slightly impressed by the way you refuse to submit. But believe me, you will give up soon. I will demolish your strength, break your will, and make you obey. When I start with what I have planned for you, you will ask me to stop and to let you live. And when I'm finished with what I have planned for you, you will want to die. You will beg for mercy like a coward."

"Never," Boromir pressed the words out between clenched teeth, "Never will I beg you for mercy."

"Are you sure, Boromir of Gondor?" the kidnapper asked and an evil, dark smile spread across his rugged face.

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Legolas sensed that he was being followed again, but this time it was no wolf. He felt unease creeping up his neck, as if somebody could try to attack him from behind every minute. After a few more steps he decided that it would be best to make a stop and lie in wait for whoever was following him instead of trying to run away. He probably had no chance of getting away as he was only traveling by foot. Quickly he left his horse grazing and hid behind a group of trees from where he could oversee quite some space. With his bow in his hands he waited silently, listening to the sounds from the woods.

He did not have to wait very long until a rider came by. He straddled a big, strong horse and wore a long brown cloak with a big hood that hid his face. He slowed his stallion down when he discovered Legolas's horse and then got down on the ground with a surprisingly light impact.

Legolas silently watched the stranger squatting down and searching the ground for traces. When he got up again, the wide cloak parted only for a second, but it was enough for Legolas to see the long sword he carried at his belt underneath the cape. The man went over to the white horse and looked at it more closely. He then softly patted its neck and looked around, obviously searching for the rider of the white animal, but he didn't discover the elf. His moves were smooth, almost graceful when he started to walk around the place, a hand hidden under his cloak, obviously resting on the hilt of his sword. Without knowing it himself, he approached Legolas' hiding place. The elf carefully took one of his arrows and drew his bow, not making a single sound. He did not intend to kill the man, but he did not want to get killed himself either. As long as he did not know who he was and what he wanted, he had to protect himself, being ready to kill if he needed to.

When the stranger was quite close Legolas left his hiding place abruptly, the ready arrow aiming directly at the head of the stranger who was only few steps away.

"Hold it!" the elf said. The man stopped and stood still.

"Remove your hood!" Legolas demanded, but the stranger didn't react.

"Show me your face or I will have to kill you!" Legolas tried again and stepped even closer to the other one, the point of his arrow only inches away from the face that lay hidden in darkness. Gloved hands were lifted to the hood and pulled it back with a swift movement. Legolas' eyes widened in surprise when the stranger's head was revealed.

"A woman...?" he muttered startled and let his weapon sink a bit. She took her chance and attacked him rapidly, making their bodies collide heavily when he was caught up in astonishment for a second and successfully wrestled him down to the ground as she had taken him by surprise. He let go of his bow and tried to grab her arms to hold her still, but she was a lot stronger than he had thought she would be. At first he hesitated to fight her, after all she was a woman, but when she punched him in the face heavily, making his lower lip bleed, he replied with equal determination. They rolled around on the muddy ground together, fighting for the lead, until Legolas finally managed to be on top and pin her down. She struggled hard to get rid of him, but he quickly pulled one of his daggers and hold it close to her neck.

"Do not move or I will put an end to your life," he said calmly but determined. She did as he said, but her eyes fixed him with a furious sparkle. She was not afraid.

"Who are you? What are you doing in these woods, all on your own?" Legolas asked, still pressing her body down to the ground with his own one, one of his hands around her right wrist, his dagger against her neck.

"And who are you, wandering alone through the woods with an injured horse?" she shot back. They stared at each other for a while until Legolas said: "I am on a mission to rescue a friend."

He noticed a change in her facial expression when she heard his words.

"Tell me, is this friend of yours Lord Boromir of Gondor?" she asked. He pressed the blade of the knife even harder against her neck, but careful enough to not cut the pale skin yet.

"Speak, what do you know?" he demanded.

"Nothing that could help to rescue Lord Boromir. I was sent by Steward Ribensis, I have news to bring to Lord Atalar and the company he is with."

"A female messenger?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes. My name is Inunyen and I have been running errands for Steward Ribensis of Katalla for many years. Take me to Lord Atalar, he will tell you that I speak the truth as he knows me well."

Hesitatingly, Legolas withdrew his dagger from her neck.

"I am Legolas, prince of Mirkwood," he introduced himself while he moved from her and rose on his feet again. He offered her one of his hands to help her up, but she ignored it and rose without his aid. Wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, he watched her straighten her clothes and beating the dust out of her cloak. She was very tall and strong for a woman, and her face was harsh. Her full lips and the soft curves of her brows indicated that she had been a pretty maiden once, but over the years had for some reason grown rough and hard. Her long red hair was pulled back to a ponytail, curly at the ends, but due to their small fight some long strands were now loose and fell over her pale, green eyed face.

"How come you are alone? Where is the rest of the company?" she suddenly asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"As my horse is wounded they left me behind and continued with the search without me for now. But I promised to catch up soon."

"I see," she said and then turned around to get back to the horses. Legolas followed her silently.

"You may ride with me, prince of Mirkwood," she stated when she climbed her horse with one single, elegant movement.

"Ride with you?" he echoed, getting hold of his horse's reins.

"I always thought elves do have splendid hearing abilities..." she teased him and rose a red eyebrow.

"They do. I was just... surprised."

"Well then, do you come? My horse is strong enough to carry both of us."

Legolas hesitated at first, but he had to admit that they could go much faster like this as his horse still couldn't carry him. He didn't trust her, but he had to take the chance. He doubted he would ever reach the company without the help of this strange lady and her horse. So he climbed behind her, the reins of his own horse still in one hand.

"You wish to take this injured horse with you?" she asked a bit surprised.

"Of course I do. It is not only a horse but a loyal friend to me. It can not carry me, but it still can run fast, it will not slow us down," Legolas said.

"As you wish. And now hold tight."

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*** Please, don't forget to leave a little (or huge...) review to let me know how you liked it! :o) ***


	8. turning point

*** Yoda, and everybody else who's wondering: Inunyen is pronounced Ee-noon-yen, second syllable stressed.

Chrisi: Diesmal ist Lyn auch wieder mit dabei, ich hoffe es gefällt Dir!

This chapter consists mostly of flashbacks. Time passed by between flashback 1 and flashback 2: one night. Between flashback 2 and flashback 3: a few days. *** 

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Blindfolded and tied up again, the rope around his wrists tighter and more painful this time, Boromir passed the time Aerilyn had been at Gondor in review, the two weeks they had more or less spent together before the assault had ripped them apart. Only two weeks. It was such a short time now he was thinking about it. And in the beginning they had done nothing but quarreling with each other. What a waste of precious time. Perhaps he would never see her again and those two weeks would be everything left of their relationship. It weighed heavily on his heart that half of the memories he had of their time together were dominated by ugly words and hateful gazes they had thrown at each other. He wished he could undo what he had said to her when he was driven by his arrogant anger. He wished he could rewind time and spend two weeks of only joy with her. No tears, no fights, no hurt feelings...

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"I did not choose to take you as my wife! It was not I who arranged this absurd wedding!" Boromir exploded, not able to control his rage any longer.

"Nor did I!" Aerilyn shot back, a furious sparkle in her eyes, "Do you think I desire to marry a man twice my age?!"

She saw that he clenched his teeth, staring her in the eyes with a rather shocked expression. She never before had shouted at him but always had been intimidated by his presence. It was the first time that she was defending herself and struck back instead of silently tolerating his aggressive outbursts. Her unexpectedly hostile reply had totally taken him by surprise.

"I do not wish to insult you, Lord Boromir, but you are old enough to be my father," she added lower, but still outraged.

"I know," he pressed forward the words, "you do not need to teach me."

An uncomfortable silence built up between them and when Boromir couldn't stand it anymore he raised his voice and said: 

"Whether we like it or not, we will be married soon. And I expect you to not show your rejection to it in public. I am the son of the steward and I have people to lead. I need a wife by my side my people can look up to and who supports me, not a little girl who acts defiant towards me."  
"I am the offspring of a steward, too! Stop acting as if you were superior to me! I deserve your respect!" Aerilyn snapped. Boromir couldn't help bursting into light laughter about her last remark.

"I do not find this a laughing matter!" she hollered angrily and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Well, I do," he said, still chuckling.

"You need to take me seriously," Aerilyn demanded, "If you want a wife who supports you, you must treat me with respect and curteousy." 

He all of a sudden turned somber again and pierced her with a gaze that produced physical pain inside of her.

"I do treat you right. As long as you act as awkward as you do at the moment you deserve no better treatment," he said with a harsh voice.

She parted her lips to reply, but his roughness left her speechless. She closed her mouth again and shifted her gaze to the floor so he could not see that she was deeply hurt.

"I suggest I leave you alone now so you can think about what I told you. Perhaps you will be able to grasp the meaning of my words when you calmed down again," she heard him say, his voice arrogant and hurtful.

"I am not daft," she replied silently, her own voice starting to crack.

"I hope you will be able to prove that to me one day," he responded coldly.

Aerilyn felt tears building up in her eyes. No matter what she said, he always had an answer ready that made her look like a fool. He made her feel worthless.

"We will talk tomorrow. I do not see any sense in prolonging this conversation at the moment," Boromir stated.

"Me neither," Aerilyn said in a very low voice and lifted a hand to her face to quickly wipe away a single tear that had escaped her eye although she tried her best to pull herself together. She would rather die than burst out in tears in front of this awful man.

"Sleep well," he said with stiff politeness and left the room.

//  
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//  
"Good morning, Aerilyn," Boromir said after he had discovered her in one of the huge stables. He tried to make his voice sound nicer than usual, but obviously failed with it. Aerilyn turned away from the brown horse she was with and glared at him with dark eyes.

"Just say it and then leave me alone!" she spat out, fumbling with the currycomb she was holding in one hand.

"Say what?" he asked, leaned against a pillar and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His lips formed a little smile when he captured her facial expression more closely. She was beautiful when she was furious.

"Well," she started and then continued with a sudden change in her voice, mocking Boromir's tone near to perfection, "Aerilyn, you stupid little thing, what are you doing?! It does not suit a lady to work in the stables! Do you want my people to laugh about us behind our back?! I need a wife who supports me, who hides in the house all day long doing nothing else than working on embroideries and looking pretty, not a wife that acts defiant and spends her days helping the stablemen!"  
"Actually I only wanted to ask you for a walk," Boromir said calmly when she was finished. He couldn't deny that he was satisfied when she blushed, but he did not show it. He was getting tired of their quarrels. This had to stop, after all she was his betrothed and he did not want to have a wife who loathed him.

"Oh," Aerilyn only said surprised and turned around to the horse she was caring for again to hide her embarrassment about her outburst.

"You come, then?" he asked the backside of her head. He could hear her sigh, but it was hard to determine the nature of the sigh. He wasn't able to tell whether she was angry, relieved, unsure, or else without seeing her face. Boromir shifted his weight on his other leg and bit his lower lip.   
After a moment of silence he sighed too and forced himself to say the word he had never said to her before, not even once.

"Please."  
Aerilyn turned around again to face him.

"Now was that so difficult?" she wanted to know with a teasing smile and raised her eyebrows.

"I tell you, do not push it too far," Boromir replied gravely.

"Or what?" she asked, putting the currycomb aside. Boromir opened his mouth to tell her she was in great danger of breaking the limits by straining his nerves to the extreme, but then decided to better leave it for now.

"Let's go, or it will be dark once we are finished with our... _discussion_," he only said, trying his best to ignore the urge to give her the scolding of her life. Instead of rebuking her he offered her his arm. She hesitated for a moment, but then approached him and put her own arm through his, her touch light and shy.

"And where do you wish to take me?" she asked curiously, her mood suddenly switched to the better again. Perhaps it all wouldn't turn out to be as bad as he had feared at first. She might be young, stubborn and defiant, but at least she managed to surprise him time and again. And one thing he was loathing like hell was boredom, a state that would surely never take control over his life as long as this unpredictable woman was around.

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//  
They were sitting in front of each other silently, separated by a table. There were only a few candles illuminating the room, bathing both of them in a soft and dim light. Aerilyn stared down to her hands that lay in her lap folded. They had not argued anymore since they had walked together the other day, but still there was an awkward atmosphere between them.

"Did they finish your wedding dress yet?" Boromir asked a bit clumsily, but he couldn't think of anything better to say and he couldn't stand the silence. Aerilyn looked up to his face and nodded slowly.

"Yes, it is beautiful," she replied in a low voice.

"I bet so," Boromir said.

Silence.  
"Would you like to go for another walk tomorrow?" he tried again to get a conversation started.

"Yes, why not. It was nice the other day," Aerilyn agreed.

"I only wish we could go without being accompanied by your brother Atalar," Boromir said.

"We could go together with Faramir tomorrow if you wish."

"No, I mean without anybody. All on our own."

"That's not possible yet, my father wouldn't allow it. You know that."

Boromir nodded, lifted a hand to his shoulder and tried to rub the pain out of an aching muscle. 

"Did you hurt yourself?" Aerilyn asked worried.

"No, not really. I'm just a bit stiff, that's all."

"Take your clothes off," Aerilyn said and rose on her feet.

"W...what?" Boromir stuttered, staring at her startled.

"Not what _you_ think!" Aerilyn replied with a chuckle and blushed slightly, "If you want I will ease your pain a bit. And you do not need to take off your trousers for what I have in mind."

Hesitatingly at first, he stripped down to the last layer of clothes that covered the upper part of his body and looked at her with an expectant gaze.

"Well, I think this will do," she sighed when she realized he wouldn't get rid of the last piece of clothes and stepped close behind him. Carefully she put her hands on his shoulders and started to give him a soft massage.

"Your shoulders feel as though you are trying to single-handedly carry all the weight of middle-earth," she exclaimed when she explored his back and his shoulders, feeling the tensed and well defined muscles underneath her gentle fingers. She also could feel the heat of his body through the fine fabric that prevented her from touching his bare skin. It felt unexpectedly good.

"You are talented," Boromir suddenly said, "You do this often?"

"Well, every now and then," she answered caught up in her thoughts and then quickly added, "When Atalar comes from his training."

"You like your brother a lot, do you not?"

"Of course. He is my brother, I love him" Aerilyn said and moved her hands deeper down Boromir's back, "I am sure you love your brother too?"

"Well yes, but I do not give him any massages when he comes from his training," Boromir said. Aerilyn smiled and worked her way up to his shoulders again, her touch harder now.

"Does it hurt?" she asked when he gave a small groan.

"No," Boromir said, closed his eyes and concentrated on the wonderful sensation of her skilful hands on his body. Silence filled the room again, but this time it was comfortable. After a few moments he felt her playing with the neckline of his shirt, and suddenly her hands slid forwards to his chest and started to loosen the buttons. He blinked his eyes open again and sucked in a breath of surprise, but before he found his voice Aerilyn spoke.

"Relax," her soft voice ordered, "it will do you good."

Her hands were shoved underneath his shirt, found back to his shoulders and squeezed them carefully, her fingers gliding over his bare skin.

"Better?" she asked. Boromir made an approving sound and she continued to work on him, his skin firm and hot against her fingers and palms that tried to loosen his tensed muscles. Boromir's body did not relax as quickly as Atalar's used to do and Aerilyn's grip got harder.

"Ow!" Boromir cried out when one of her fingers produced a sharp pain on his right shoulder.

"Shh! Not so loud!" Aerilyn hissed in a low voice. They both hold their breaths and listened alarmed for some moments. Just when they thought nobody had heard it there were quick steps approaching Aerilyn's room.

"Oh no," she groaned and let go of Boromir's shoulders. Before Boromir could say a word somebody was knocking on the door.

"The window," she whispered and quickly crossed the room.

"You want me to jump down there?" Boromir asked when he had joined Aerilyn who opened the window rapidly. It looked pretty high from where they were standing.

"Do you have a better suggestion?" she asked.

"Lyn? Are you alright?" a male voice came through the door.

"Atalar. Somehow I knew it would be him," Boromir said.

"He's a bit overprotective," Aerilyn whispered back and then went back to the table.

"I am fine!" she yelled while picking up Boromir's clothes.

"May I come in?" her brother asked. Boromir rolled his eyes.

"Yes, in a minute! I... I am naked!" Aerilyn said and came back to Boromir who tried to fight back a grin.

"What?" she asked a bit offended, "I couldn't come up with a better excuse so quickly."

"Don't you think he will wonder _why_ you were naked?"

"Why, it's a warm night. And now get out of here. I don't think it's a good idea to hide in the closet or under my bed."

"Why not?" Boromir asked.

"Trust me, I know my brother," Aerilyn replied with a smirk and threw Boromir's things out of the window. He watched them falling down to the street speechlessly. Then he shook his head in disbelief and sighed heavily.

"This is by far the silliest thing I've done in my whole life," Boromir stated while he climbed the windowsill. When he heard Aerilyn chuckle he looked back down to her face and discovered a pair of eyes with the most beautiful sparkles of joy he had ever seen. She indeed was beautiful when she was furious, but when she was cheerful she just took his breath away.

"You better hurry, my brother will not be amused to find you in my room half-naked in the middle of the night," Aerilyn said with a grin.

Before he knew what he was doing Boromir put a hand behind the back of her head and pulled her close abruptly. Aerilyn's smile faded away, her eyes widened and she gasped in surprise when she was crushed against his broad chest. Only a second after he had brought their lips together roughly she broke from his grip and stared at him almost horrified. What Boromir not knew was that she was not shocked about his sudden approach, but about her own feelings that he had released with the quick kiss. It just made no sense, she thought. Only days ago she had hated him more than anything else, and now she felt electrified by a single short and dry kiss from his lips. Her body longed for more. She could not fight against this heavy urge, no matter how much it confused and disturbed her. Just when he wanted to apologize she suddenly took his face in her hands and made their mouths collide again. He almost fell from the windowsill down to the street and quickly grabbed the frame of the window for support while Aerilyn was sparking off a fire in his heart, kissing him deep and hot kisses. He responded with rough passion, not getting enough of the sweetness and softness of her lips.

"Aerilyn!" Atalar's voice disturbed the moment, followed by an angry pound against the door.

"Yes, only a second!" she yelled back. She took a deep breath and wiped a few strands of hair behind her ears nervously. Her cheeks were deeply reddened and her heart was racing so heavily that she feared even Atalar must hear it although he wasn't even in the same room.

"Go now," she whispered breathlessly and gently stroked Boromir's rough cheek.

"Will we meet tomorrow?" he asked expectantly in a low voice. She nodded and her lips formed a small smile.

"Good night, my Aerilyn," he said and kissed her a last time.

"Good night, my Boromir," she whispered back happily and watched him getting down to the ground with a thud, gathering his clothes and vanishing in the darkness.

//  



	9. company of five

When Legolas and Inunyen caught up with the rest of the company it was just starting to get dark and Aragorn was setting up a fire with Atalar's help. As soon as he heard horses approaching he rose back on his feet and scanned the surrounding area until his eyes caught what he had been hoping for.

"There comes Legolas," he informed the others with a relieved tone in his voice, "But he is not alone."

Atalar looked up and then jumped to his feet when he recognized the woman who was riding with the elf. He quickly followed Aragorn who was walking towards the approaching horses, but before he could explain to Aragorn who she was, Legolas and Inunyen reached him and dismounted. The tall woman immediately caught Aragorn's interest in such a strong way that he even forgot to greet Legolas and only fixed on her intriguing face that had, for a female, uncommonly severe features. If she noticed that he stared at her she didn't show it, her gaze was focused on Atalar only when she walked towards them.

"Greetings to you, Lord Atalar," the woman said and bowed her head to show her allegiance.

"Get up, Inunyen," he replied, "Did my father send you?"

"Yes, my Lord," Inunyen said and straightened up again.

"So it is true? She is a messenger?" Legolas asked, still distrustful.

"Yes, she has proven her loyalty towards my father's empire for many years," Atalar explained.

"If you are a messenger, brave lady, don't you want to tell us what news you have to bring?" Aragorn asked, watching the red-haired woman with penetrating eyes. She shifted her proud and strong gaze from Atalar's face to Aragorn's, returning his stare.

"I will join you from now on," she stated.

"You? Join us?" Aragorn asked and couldn't help smiling.

"May I ask why you are laughing?" she asked with a sharp voice that made Aragorn turn serious again.

"I wish to see a proof of the truth of your words," Aragorn said, "I am sure Steward Ribensis gave you something with you on your way to show us that you are forwarding his orders only."

"No, he did not," she simply replied without batting an eyelid.

"No?" Aragorn echoed, frowning slightly. "Every trustworthy messenger carries some kind of attestation with him... or her. How can we be sure that it was really Steward Ribensis who sent you? How do we know these words that come from your mouth were spoken by him?"

"I am her attestation," Atalar said, "I know her well. I swear to you, she _is_ trustworthy."

"Why should your father send this woman to join our team? I see no sense in that!" Aragorn responded.

"Maybe because he wants somebody he confides in to guard his son so he does not get murdered by people of Gondor like his daughter was!" Inunyen hissed before Atalar could answer himself.

"What did you just say?!" Atalar pressed forward the words, grabbing Inunyen's shoulder with a strong hand. Nervous fear was written all across his young and beautiful face.

"My Lord, I regret to tell you that I bring sad news," she said calmly and lowered her gaze so she did not have to look him in the eyes.

"Now speak!" Atalar demanded inpatient, his voice getting shaky, "What happened?!"

"The injury caused by the assassins could not be healed. Your sister, the Lady Aerilyn, is dead."

Terrible silence came down over them, and everything that could be heard was the crackling of the fire. After a few seconds that seemed like ages Aragorn was the first one to find his tongue.

"I want to see a proof," he said.

"Stop demanding evidence for everything!" Atalar yelled at him, "We do not have any evidence! I trust Inunyen without a stupid proof! I trust her a lot more than I will ever trust one of you! My sister is dead, let us accept it! And Inunyen will join us, whether you like it or not! You three are all hand-in-glove with each other whereas I am all on my own! I need her support for I do not want to get slaughtered by Ghorid when I am asleep!"

"He will not kill you!" Aragorn replied.

"The same way Boromir did not kill Aerilyn, right?!" Atalar responded sarcastically.

"Yes, exactly!"

"I wish my father never would have agreed to this alliance with Gondor, for it brings only death and pain to my family! I damn Gondor and each of its citizen! And I damn you because you are friends with these ill-minded people!"

"Atalar, I beg you, your words do not make any sense," Aragorn tried to calm him down, but it did not work at all.

"My words do not make sense you say?! Let me tell you what makes no sense, Aragorn! It makes no sense that my sweet sister had to die! It makes no sense that she, with the purest heart of all people, was murdered mercilessly at such a young age! Never did she do anything that deserved such a bloody stroke of fate in return! She was genuine, fair, gentle; A treasure to everybody who ever had the pleasure to make her acquaintance. She was...she..."

Atalar's voice faded and he brought a hand up to his face when he felt tears starting to flow.

"We share your sorrow and..." Aragorn started but was quickly interrupted by Atalar again.

"You do not!" Atalar screamed, fighting with his overwhelming emotions, "And I never would want you to do so! I don't need people like you to share my sorrow! With your feigned sympathy you are only disgracing the remembrance of my beloved sister!"

He stared at Aragorn for a few moments, his eyes filled with pain and hatred, the sides of his nose trembling slightly while bitter tears wetted his blushed face. Then he turned around abruptly and retreated, not looking back once.

"Perhaps we should better go after him," Legolas said worried.

"He needs to be alone for a while," Inunyen replied, "Lord Atalar is very introverted and he must not be disturbed when he mourns."

When she felt Aragorn's sharp gaze on her face she turned her head towards him and stared back, holding his glance.

"Do you want a proof of that too?" she asked ironically and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't jest about me if you want my confidence!" Aragorn responded harshly and turned away to get back to the campfire.

"Does he not have any manners?" Inunyen asked Legolas once Aragorn was out of hearing, "He did not even introduce himself."

"I would say he does not have less manners than you do," Legolas replied calmly. Inunyen glared at him for a few seconds and then closed her eyes with a low sigh. She wiped a strand of hair from her face and tried to think of something she could respond to Legolas' statement, but when she opened her eyes again she found herself standing by the horses alone. Legolas had gone after Aragorn back to the campfire.

"You think we can trust in her?" Aragorn asked in a low voice and sat down on the ground with a small sigh.

"I am not sure. But after all it is thanks to her that I am here with you again," Legolas said and sank down next to Aragorn. He wanted to say something else about Inunyen, but his words were lost when his eyes caught Ghorid who was lying on the ground with his back to the fire, not moving at all.

"What is the matter with Ghorid?" Legolas asked concerned, sensing that he was not only sleeping.

"I am afraid he got infected with some kind of illness when he was bitten by one of the wolves," Aragorn said, Legolas' worry reflecting in his own voice.

"He must return to Minas Tirith then," Legolas said.

"I told him so already, but he will not listen. He is determined to rescue Boromir."

"Did he at least allow you to see the wound?"

Aragorn nodded slowly.

"It is not the wound itself that feeds my concern though, for it is not serious enough to kill him. But I fear that he will get weaker with every day due to the infection until..."

"Could you please stop talking about my death?! I can hear you, you fools!" Ghorid's angry voice came from the other side of the campfire.

"You should go back to Minas Tirith so your wounds can be treated properly," Legolas said, "It is very unwise to carry on with a body that will be taken over by a serious disease soon."

"I feel well, I only need to rest a bit," Ghorid replied.

"But Aragorn says..."

"Aragorn talks too much!" Boromir's cousin hissed, interrupting the elf's words. When Legolas opened his mouth to respond, Aragorn put his hand on his friend's forearm and softly shook his head.

"Let him sleep," he whispered. Legolas nodded, shifted his gaze to the small flames that were crackling in front of them and started to think about Inunyen again. He was intrigued by her as there was something about her he could not grasp. There were not many people who could confuse Legolas, but she was definitely one of the few who managed to build up a wall around herself his elven senses could not break through. He just had no idea what to think of her, but he would have plenty of time to tear down her walls as she was going to travel with them from now on, making them a company of five.


	10. a new agreement

*** I am sorry the last chapter was so short! In order to make up to you, my dear readers, I made this chapter the longest I've written so far. I hope you enjoy it! I couldn't think of a fitting title, so it's just called "chapter 10", sorry for that. And, as always, thank you sooooo much for your kind words!! I appreciate every review very much, so keep them coming! ;o)

Cath Sith: I see no reason why anybody would make nasty remarks about your German, really! I am impressed by your skills, especially considering that German is a very tough language to learn, much harder than English!! I'm honored that you make such great efforts to review my work in my mothertongue! (But if you feel more comfortable with it, please feel free to write English reviews, okay?) 

Chrisi: Monster-Reviews erschrecken mich nicht im geringsten!! Ich liebe Deine ausführlichen Rezensionen, sie sind sehr aufschlussreich! Vielen Dank!! :o)

Steffi: Ich verzeihe Dir (hehe)! Danke für Deine lieben, lobenden Worte; Ich bin ganz gerührt! 

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Boromir blinked his eyes open. He had a terrible headache and felt as if he just had woken up from a deep but troubled sleep. He was dazed and every single bone in his body seemed to hurt. It took some time until he noticed that he was lying on the ground, backside down, and not sitting on a horse. Slowly he slid his hands over the ground, searching for nothing in particular. His hands touched a cold, rough surface of stone and... He sat up abruptly, staring down at his hands. He wasn't tied up anymore, the rope was gone. And the blindfold too. He choked when his eyes caught his wrists for the first time in many days. To describe them as sore would be an understatement. The permanent friction of the rough rope had cut deep in his tissue. His skin was practically gone and revealed inflamed flesh covered with a disgusting mixture of thick blood and glutinous pus. It burned like fire, but it was by far not the only pain that licked through his body. He lifted a hand to his face and touched it carefully, wincing slightly at the sharp pain that ran through his head when he lay his fingertips on his right brow. He withdrew his fingers quickly and found them returning streaked with dark blood. He started to explore his face with both hands, ignoring the pain he caused himself. It felt odd and unfamiliar. Swollen, soft, and sticky with slowly drying blood that must have been drawn not long ago. He couldn't remember that they had beaten him up this heavily, but he couldn't even remember that they brought him here either. He obviously had a mental blackout concerning the last few hours, or even more.

Boromir rose on his feet and scanned the area. He was in some sort of dungeon, put away in a medium sized cell. He assumed that they kept him either below or deep inside the mountains as his prison was nothing more than a small cave that had been dug into a massive rock, a line of thick bars arranged along the entrance to prevent him from getting out. The dim light that illuminated this place was produced by a few torches that were attached to the walls in the corridors that led to and away from his prison. Boromir wondered where these corridors led and what would happen with him now. He still was clueless to the motivation of his abductors and also their identities.

He withdrew to the darkest corner of his cell and sat down with a small groan of pain, leaning his aching back against the cold and stony wall. He closed his eyes in order to concentrate on fighting back the stupor, he needed to be fully awake if he wanted to develop some sort of plan on how to get out of here. It was probably impossible to sneak away without being confronted by his abductors, but he had to do something as long as he was able to fight back. He couldn't just sit and wait for them to return and finally beat him to death. After a few moments he took a deep breath and went back to the bars to examine them more closely. They had gotten him in, so there had to be a way to get out of here again, too. He quickly found the way out to be a simple door made of bars as well, locked with a heavy padlock. But before he could even try to get it open, there were steps approaching from deeper down one of the corridors. Boromir wrapped his hands around two of the bars and waited for whoever was to pay him a visit.

"I see you woke up again," one of the three men said when they reached Boromir's prison.

"I hope you changed your mind in the meantime," another one said. Boromir recognized him as the leader of the group that had abducted him whereas the other two were unfamiliar to him.

"I know not what you are speaking of," Boromir said, holding the cold stare of the man who had thrown him in the river not long ago. After some moments of silence, the leader inhaled audibly and turned to his companions.

"Get him out and continue with him until he spits out something useful. Make sure you won't injure his head so heavily again, I need his memory to work perfectly. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," the leader said and turned back to Boromir again, "And this time there will be no mercy, you hear me? This time we will make you speak! We will not let you escape into unconsciousness again! "

"Make me speak of what?" Boromir asked. His head was empty, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't remember what had happened before he woke up in this cave.

"Don't worry Boromir, you will remember soon. And you better open your mouth this time, my patience is limited. Either you tell us what we long to know, or you will experience pain you didn't dare to dream of until now. It is a simple choice. Speak or die. Pick your decision wisely."

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Aerilyn sat on the windowsill of her bedchamber and stared outsides. She had done nothing else since she had been discharged from the houses of healing, just sitting at the window and watching the street, hoping that her eyes would catch the company returning home safely with Boromir. But it did not happen.

She lifted her feet onto the windowsill and drew her legs close to her body, embracing them with her own arms and lowering her chin on her knees. She closed her eyes and her mind was occupied with lovely memories immediately, memories that were connected with this very windowsill she was sitting on. Their first kiss. She would never forget it. She would never forget Boromir. Her hopes of welcoming him back faded with every day, but her memory of him would never cease. 

A knock on the door drew her attention away from her hurtful thoughts.

"Come in," Aerilyn said although she wasn't in the mood to see anybody. The only people she longed to see were Boromir and Atalar, and she doubted it was either of them who was knocking on her door.

"Milady, I bring you a dress you shall wear this evening. Your father wishes you to come and have dinner with your dear mother, Steward Denethor and Lord Faramir," her handmaiden said after entering the room.

"Tell my father I will not come," Aerilyn said and shifted her gaze back to the road.

"Lady Aerilyn," the maid said, "You need to eat something."

"I am not hungry."

The handmaiden sighed and put the dress she was carrying on Aerilyn's bed.

"If you change your mind call me so I can arrange your hair."

"Yes, thank you," Aerilyn replied absently.

About one hour later Aerilyn got off the windowsill and went to her bed. There lay one of her most beautiful dresses, pale blue in color and made of silk. It had a lot of stylish and complicated details so it needed over half an hour to put it on and she also would need help to do so as she couldn't lace up the backside of the dress by herself. She looked down to the dress she was wearing now and bit her lower lip. The fabric was simple and gray, nothing compared to the splendorous and elegant material of the light blue dress that was waiting on her bed. It also was rather shapeless, not at all emphasizing the fineness of her waist, the appealing curves of her breasts, or any of the other charms of her lovely female features. But after all it was a dress. She didn't care for her hair and just let it hang loose, her unruly curls falling down over her back and shoulders, and left her chambers to head for the huge dining room. 

When she entered it she found everybody sitting at the table already. The conversation that was going on between her parents, Steward Denethor and Faramir died away the second she set her foot in the room and four pairs of eyes focused on her. She felt like an intruder and almost turned around to retreat again, but her father quickly rose on his feet and outstretched a hand to her direction.

"Aerilyn, my sweet one. I am glad you decided to have dinner with us. Come and sit down," Ribensis said with a soft tone in his voice. He usually was a rather harsh man, but after all he also was a father who loved his daughter.

"I can sit down on my own," Aerilyn said with a faint voice and passed him without taking his offered hand.

"Very well..." he only muttered, sharing a concerned gaze with his wife, and sat back down while Aerilyn took a seat without his aid. She raised her head and looked into Faramir's face. He sat directly in front of her on the other side of the table. He smiled slightly when their gazes met. She didn't react and shifted her gaze aside, for some reason she couldn't stand his stare. Her eyes captured the empty chair next to Faramir, the one Boromir had used to sit on when they all had dinner together. She clenched her teeth to fight back tears and stared down on her hands that were folded in her lap. She heard the others continuing to talk about things she wasn't interested in and remained silent until the food was served.

"Aerilyn," her father said when they were almost finished with eating, "Yesterday one of Steward Denethor's mares gave birth. Why don't you ask Lord Faramir to take you to the stables and have a look at the foal."

She looked up, her eyes welling with tears she didn't allow to fall down.

"I am not interested in taking joyful walks to see newborn foals with Lord Faramir," she said with a rejecting tone in her voice. She felt the bewildered gaze of her mother, and she saw her father's body stiffen. She knew what that meant and pressed her lips together when Ribensis leaned a bit forward to rebuke her.

"Aerilyn! You will not speak like that of Lord Faramir, I want you to apologize immediately."

"Steward Ribensis, I am sure your daughter did not mean it to sound insulting," Faramir tried to appease Aerilyn's father, but he didn't listen to him.

"Start behaving, Aerilyn! You are no child any longer! Not only do you insult Lord Faramir, you sit here not eating anything but only poking in your food. What did I teach you manners for if you won't show them?! And look at you! Is that how a lady is supposed to take part at a dinner with the Steward who is going to be her father-in-law in near future?!"

"I see no sense in wearing beautiful dresses!" Aerilyn screamed, suddenly feeling overwhelming fury building up in the depth of her small body and rose on her feet so abruptly that the chair fell over, "I see no sense in getting my hair made! The only man I would wish to look pretty for is not here!"

"Sit down!" her father barked, shocked about her behavior.

"No!"

"Lady Aerilyn," Faramir tried to calm her down, "I am sure we will get a proof of life soon. Perhaps they already found Boromir and will return within the next days and your concern will be proven unfounded."

"My concern is not at all unfounded! You have to consider that our messenger did not return yet. Something terrible must have happened! I can't think of anything that could have distracted her but a deadly battle or assault they all got caught up in."

"Maybe she just didn't find the company yet, I am sure she will return soon," Ribensis said.

"No, Inunyen is the best messenger we have. And you know that. You know that she must have found them already! If everything was alright, she would have returned by now to bring us good news! But Inunyen is not here! Neither is Atalar, nor Boromir! They are probably dead, and you sit here and have cheerful conversations about the breeding of horses! You disgust me!"

And with that she raced off, tears of both sorrow and anger streaming down her face.

"Excuse me," Ribensis said in a low voice and rose on his feet to get after his daughter. He caught up quickly and grabbed her upper arm to bring her to a stop.

"Leave me alone," Aerilyn said, wiping away her tears with her free hand.

"I will let you go for now, but I wish to see you apologize to both Steward Denethor and his son Faramir tomorrow. Don't you see you are disgracing our family with your childish behavior? It is terrible what happened to you and Lord Boromir, and I will mourn if it is proven that he fell in combat against the abductors. But his death will not change the agreement between Steward Denethor and me, do you understand?"

Aerilyn looked at her father with big eyes and choked hardly. She already had an idea of what he was about to tell her, but when she heard him speaking it out loud it felt like a slap in the face.

"Denethor and I agreed to marry you to Lord Faramir if Boromir is declared dead. I expect you to behave appropriately when he is around for he perhaps will be your husband soon."

"No, this cannot be true," Aerilyn said, her a voice trembling with horror, "You both are treating your children as if they were some kind of commodity! What would you have done if I had been killed by the assault?! Would you have arranged the wedding of Faramir and Atalar?!" 

She felt the grip of her father getting harder, bruising her delicate arm.

"My patience with you is slowly coming to an end, my dear daughter!" he hissed, "You seem to forget who you are! You have duties like everybody else in this family! You have enjoyed all the privileges you possibly can claim as the daughter of a steward for about twenty years, now it is time that you as well start dealing with the responsibilities and obligations that come with this position! Life does not always choose the path we would like best. We all have to make sacrifices in order to turn the life of our people and the status of our empire to the better, it is our duty to do so without complaining. And you will be no exception. Is that understood?"

Aerilyn didn't reply but shut her eyes tight, feeling that she wouldn't be able to suppress her sobs for much longer.

"Is that understood, Aerilyn?!" her father repeated authoritatively, shaking her slightly.

"Yes, father," she whined only. 

"Now go to your chambers and stay there. I do not want you to cross my eyes for this evening."

As soon as he released her arm Aerilyn ran to her room where she first of all hurled the blue dress away to a corner furiously. Then her burning rage turned to massive despair that filled her completely, making her heart ache heavier with every beat. She never had felt more miserable and helpless in her life, and so she nestled up in her bed, trying to get a tiny bit of comfort from the softness of the sheets she wetted with her tears.

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Inunyen knelt on the ground, bent over Atalar's sleeping body, and hold her breath. She hesitated, the sharp blade of her dagger only inches from Atalar's throat. Quickly she looked up once again to make sure that none of the others was coming. Since Atalar refused to sleep near to Ghorid, Aragorn or Legolas they had started to split up in two groups every time they set up a camp, leaving Atalar alone with Inunyen. They were out of sight, but not really out of hearing and Inunyen had to act quickly if she didn't want to be in danger of getting discovered by one of the others. She choked hard and tightened her grip around the weapon. She had only one try, she had to kill him with only one thrust so he had no chance to scream... One hard thrust in the smooth skin of his neck she once had sucked on in ecstasy, back at Katalla when they had given in to their desire, hidden in one of the stables, covered by the darkness of the night. It had been her first and last encounter with the act of lovemaking, and she remembered every second of it as if it had been yesterday and not years ago. Despair welled in her heart when she noticed that her hand was shivering slightly. She couldn't deny her true feelings. She cursed her weakness, her inability to do what had to be done. She wished she could switch off her emotions, but she couldn't. Inunyen blinked hardly to fight back tears that gathered in her eyes. She was disappointed about herself, about her failure.

When Atalar moaned softly and moved she rapidly let the dagger vanish under her cloak. Only a second later he blinked his eyes open and seemed startled to see her so close to his face.

"Inunyen, what are you doing?" he asked drowsily.

"Watching over you while you are asleep, my Lord," she replied in a low voice. She didn't know how many times she had already lied to him, the man she loved. The only human being she ever had developed deep feelings for. He was the dearest to her heart, and yet he was the one she was determined to murder.

He slowly sat up and when she wanted to back away grabbed her upper arm to hold her in position.

"Did you cry?" he asked surprised and worried, his big dark eyes capturing her face.

"No, I did not," she responded, lying once more, "Lie back down, you need to rest."

"Would you lie with me?" he asked, his voice only a whisper. Her mouth turned dry and she couldn't help staring at him, the longing expression in her eyes revealing the truth about her deep feelings she tried to suppress at all costs.

"I am glad you are here with me," he said and ran his hand from her arm to her head. She closed her eyes when his gentle fingers lingered on the backside of her neck, playing with her soft hair. A long time had passed by since he had touched her the last time and it almost scared her how much she had missed it. Although they had been living in the same fortress for over ten years they had hardly ever spent time together alone, not to speak of having physical contact. The fear of being discovered was huge. It was not easy to conceal a secret and forbidden love between the heir to the stewardship and a simple messenger of his father.

Inunyen's eyes shot open again when Atalar's soft lips were lowered on her own, drawing her into a deep, fiery kiss they both had waited to share for what seemed like an eternity. He opened her ponytail and plunged both of his hands in her full hair, pulling her head even closer to his face. She gave in to the passion, allowing him to suck on her lips and probe her mouth with flaming desire. Her breathing quickened when their tongues met and she put a hand flatly against his chest, not yet sure whether she did it to pull him closer or to push him away again.

"I have been craving this," Atalar whispered, his breath hot against her lips, "It has been so long since I tasted your lips the last time."

He kissed her again, harder this time, and began to tug on her clothes. Tears started to escape Inunyen's eyes. Why was fate so cruel? Why did she fall in love with the man she was supposed to assassinate? And why did he return these feelings? Emotions made everything difficult and complicated.

She felt that he tried to find comfort in the kisses, that he desperately tried to work off the pain about the loss of his sister. She hated herself for having brought this untrue news to him that had ripped his heart to pieces, but it had to be done. Wetting both their faces with hot tears and returning his loving kisses, she slid one hand back to her dagger. She closed her fingers around it, ready to draw the weapon and put and end to Atalar's life...

But something hold her back. Something that was stronger than the fear of what would happen to her if she did not do it.

"I cannot," she whispered, broke from his tender grip and rose abruptly. She meant killing him, but Atalar thought she meant loving him.

"Wait!" he blurted out and was on his feet in a second, holding to her arm so she couldn't run away.

"Why don't you want to take this chance? We have been waiting for many years for this to happen," he said in a very low voice and raised her hand to his mouth to kiss it softly.

She wanted, but she couldn't. She wanted to give in to him, to let him take her with his fiery temper and burning passion she loved so much about him. But it could not be.

"I am sorry, Atalar," she whispered and escaped from his grip. He didn't run after her. Inunyen didn't know whether she was relieved or disappointed about it. She only felt confusion for now. She had to get back to her senses. She had her orders that had to be fulfilled, no matter whether these orders contradicted the honest feelings she carried in her heart of hearts.

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~ to be continued ~

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*** I need to clarify something: In my story, there's no Éowyn! Faramir is single. My apologies to everybody who is a hardcore Éowyn-Fan! (I hope you'll still continue to read although I ripped Éowyn and Faramir apart...). 

I'm also sorry that I'm beating the shit out of Boromir, but that's the way this story works... Abductors who try to get important pieces of information out of their victim are never nice and lovely I'm afraid! Sorry, Boromir, I love you man! ;o) ***


	11. with joined forces

*** A few words concerning "Faramir, Denethor, Éowyn"... I already mentioned in my very first author's note that I did not read "The two Towers" and "The Return of the King". That means: I am totally (!!) unfamiliar with these three characters. That's basically the reason I tried to either not work them into the story at all (Éowyn) or only very little (Faramir and Denethor). I know that it would have been only logical if Faramir had joined the company to find his brother, but I didn't want to work with him so intensively because I don't want to write him out of character. Now I reached a point in my story where I obviously *have* to deal with Faramir more closely, no matter whether or not I am able to do it well... So I tried in this chapter. Don't rip my head of if he's out of character, please! As I said, I have NO IDEA what Faramir is like, I only know his name and that he's Boromir's younger brother / Éowyn's husband. I definitely will not work in Éowyn. It's not because I dislike her character, but because I know absolutely *nothing* about her! (Perhaps, once I've finished with the rest of the books, I'm going to write a story about Éowyn and Faramir or something, but not now. I'm sure you all understand that!)

Phew, that was a long author's note! On with the story now, and keep in mind that I am unfamiliar with the characters of Faramir and Denethor while you read their scene... But after all, this is an AU fic, so I could write that Faramir throws a huge party because Boromir is dead and you couldn't even point your fingers at me! Haha! ;o) ***

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Aragorn woke up from a terrible scream that cut the peaceful silence of the night. He immediately opened his eyes and sat up abruptly, scanning the surrounding area, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. His eyes caught Legolas who had been on watch while Aragorn rested. The elf was on his feet and obviously ready to walk off. Aragorn fixed his friend with a question in his eyes.

"That was Atalar," Legolas explained calmly, "I will go and have a look."

"Shall I come with you?" Aragorn asked concerned and wanted to get up. He had a very bad feeling about the situation. The scream, so full of horror and pain, had gone right through him and left him wondering in unease about what had happened. But Legolas came closer and put a hand on Aragorn's shoulder, making him sit back down again.

"No, somebody needs to stay with Ghorid. I will return soon."

"Be careful," Aragorn said.

"I am always careful," the elf replied, went away and soon was swallowed by the darkness of the night.

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Legolas frowned when he soon discovered Atalar lying curled up on the ground. He was all on his own. Inunyen was not there. Quickly, Legolas knelt down next to the young lord who was resting on his side and softly put a hand on his shoulder. His whole body was trembling and he breathed heavily, low sounds of anguish coming from his throat every now and then.

"Atalar... can you hear me?" Legolas asked concerned. When there was no reaction he carefully rolled Atalar on his back. His whole face was covered with sweat and his skin was white like snow. His black, short hair was so wet that it shimmered in the moonlight, and liquid drops ran from his hairline down over his face that expressed intense fear and pain.

"Atalar!" Legolas tried again, his voice louder and tensed this time. When the man slowly blinked his eyes open, the elf felt relief and continued to speak more relaxed.

"Are you injured? Did somebody do you harm? We heard your scream."

Atalar shook his head faintly and swallowed hard.

"Only a bad dream," he whispered and closed his fluttering eyelids again.

"Where is Inunyen?"

"I don't know."

Legolas softly lay a hand on Atalar's wet forehead and paused for a moment.

"You have a high temperature," he stated, grabbed Atalar's wrist and wrapped the young man's arm around his neck. Atalar's eyes shot open again and he moved his head to look at Legolas.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"You are coming with me, I won't leave you here in this poor condition, all on your own," Legolas explained, dragged Atalar up on his feet and supported him by wrapping an arm around his waist. The tunic of the younger man was soaked all over, Legolas felt the cold moistness against his fingers when he clutched to him.

"What about the horses?" Atalar whispered.

"I'll get back here once I've taken you to our camp. Don't worry," Legolas answered and shifted his gaze to the animals. He wondered where Inunyen was and why she hadn't taken her horse with her when she left. Something strange was going on here. Something Legolas did not like at all.

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Aragorn rose on his feet and wanted to say something when he saw Legolas return, but the words were stuck in his throat when his eyes captured the sight of Atalar. He looked like near death. Silently he watched how Legolas carefully let Atalar down near to the campfire and wrapped him in a blanket tightly. He heard that the elf whispered soothing words to the other man, but Aragorn could not understand what exactly he said. And he doubted that Atalar could grasp the meaning of Legolas' words. His bad condition seemed serious.

"What happened?" Aragorn asked, once Legolas had left the shivering body and walked over to his friend. 

"He suffers from gruesome nightmares," Legolas explained in a low voice, "The mental pain about the loss of his sister makes him fall ill. He has a very high temperature, but yet he's freezing. He also threw up on our way back here."

"How much bad luck can we possibly have?" Aragorn said and wrinkles of worry showed on his forehead, "First, Faramir was wounded and could not come with us. Then Ghorid was bitten by several wolves and carries a serious infection in his body, plus your horse was almost ripped. And now this!"

"Inunyen is gone," Legolas informed Aragorn, making an addition to the negative events that had happened during their journey so far.

"What?"

"I don't know where she is, neither does Atalar. He was alone when I found him."

"I hope our journey will turn to the better soon, or we will be doomed to fail," Aragorn said gravely.

"I will go back to get Atalar's horse," Legolas said, ignoring Aragorn's last remark, "I think it would be good if you had a look at him while I'm gone. Perhaps there's something you can do to ease his suffering."

"I'm afraid there isn't, Legolas. I can treat physical wounds, but Atalar's wounds are in his heart and soul. I cannot heal his mind."

"Then sit with him and give him comfort," Legolas said. He saw hesitation in Aragorn's eyes and there was a slightly sharp undertone in Legolas' usually soft voice when he continued, "Aragorn, I know we are not best friends with him, but you need to ignore your dislike towards Atalar and..."

"Not only aren't we *good* friends with him, we are no friends with him at all!" Aragorn interrupted, "And it's not I who creates this stupid hostility between us! So don't blame me!"

He slowly started to feel as if Legolas was about to swap the sides and he didn't like that idea at all.

"Of course it is not you! I never said it was you!" Legolas hissed back, "I suggest you listen to my words more closely before you start accusing me of things I didn't mean and didn't do!"

They stared at each other for a few seconds until the elf raised his voice again, continuing more quietly.

"I know that it is hard to excuse Atalar's behavior, but he suffers immensely. I beg you, forget what has gone before and focus on the time at hand. He needs us now. And you have to admit that we need him as well. But we need him in a better condition. He cannot help to rescue Boromir if he breaks down the next days."

"You are right," Aragorn admitted, calming down again.

"I'm glad you agree," Legolas said, "I do not wish to quarrel with you."

"I don't want to quarrel with you, either."

"Good. Then let us not do it. Go and stay with Atalar, I will go and get the horse."

"So be it, my friend," Aragorn said and once again watched Legolas vanish into the darkness of the night.

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Inunyen's heart was racing and her breath rushed in and out with quick pants. When she had come back from the place she had withdrawn to earlier this night, she came to their small camp only to discover that Atalar was not there. Panic had started to take control over her when she didn't find him in the surrounding area. Once she had calmed down from their kiss, she had been determined to fulfill her order. She had been determined to finally do it, to kill him. And now he was gone, and the first feeling that enfolded in her was concern. The one minute she had wanted to murder him, and the next she was going crazy with worry about him. This didn't make any sense, but she couldn't help it. She was searching for quite some time now, soaked with sweat and out of breath, but he was nowhere to be found. Slowly she was giving up on finding him, and so she returned to the camp quickly. When she rapidly passed another tree, she bumped into somebody who was hurrying through the woods at quite some pace, too. She couldn't help shrieking in surprise. She would have fallen down to the ground from the heavy impact of their colliding bodies, but arms closed around her, holding to her tight and preventing her from hitting the ground. For a second she thought it was Atalar, but when she raised her head it wasn't her secret lover's face she looked at.

"Legolas!" Inunyen panted once she recognized the elf. She clasped his clothes and looked him in the eyes with a desperate expression.

"What's wrong?" he replied, his hands still resting on her back, "Why are you so out of breath?"

"Atalar is gone! I cannot find him..." she told him and swallowed hardly.

"He is in safety," Legolas said and a soft smile spread on his face, "He is with Aragorn."

"With Aragorn?" Inunyen echoed in disbelief. That would have been the last place she had pictured Atalar to be.

"Yes, I brought him to our camp since he is ill."

Legolas let go of her and frowned slightly.

"What happened to your hair?" he asked.

"My hair?" Inunyen asked back wonderingly and then remembered that Atalar had loosened her firm ponytail. Before she could tell Legolas a made up explanation he asked another question. A question that was harder to explain than the one about her hair.

"Why weren't you with Lord Atalar?" the elf wanted to know, "Where were you and why?"

"I... I want to see him. Let's go to your camp," Inunyen said, ignoring Legolas' questions stubbornly. The elf nodded slowly and then turned around to get Atalar's horse, but she had seen in his eyes that he wouldn't give up so soon. He knew that something terribly wrong was going on here and he was determined to find out what it was. Time was pushing. Inunyen had to act quickly if she didn't want to have two men on her list of people to murder. 

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Once back at the camp again, Inunyen took Aragorn's place at the side of Atalar. She knelt with her back to the others, but she could hear that they sat not too far away on the other side of the small campfire.

"How are you?" she whispered in a voice low enough to prevent Aragorn and Legolas from eavesdropping. He didn't respond to her question, but looked at her with an odd expression in his eyes that made her feel both sad and happy at the same time.

"I am sorry," he whispered, his pale lips hardly moving while he spoke, "I did not mean to rush you into something just now."

"I know," she whispered back and tried to smile. She lifted a hand and gently caressed his head, feeling the cold, wet curls of dark hair between her shaky fingers.

"Once we are back home," he told her with a faint voice, "I will go to my father and tell him about us. We will not hide any longer."

Inunyen was paralyzed and speechless for a moment and not able to respond to his statement immediately. Her hand stopped moving and lay upon his head at rest.

"We wasted all those years already. I am not willing to go on like this. I want us to be together," he continued and blinked slowly, exhaustion written all across his sweaty face.

"Your father would never allow this," Inunyen whispered back, trying hard to control her voice that threatened to crack.

"I do not care what my father says."

"Atalar, you know this cannot be. It is hopeless."

"No," he said, his voice getting louder, "No, it is not hopeless. How can you say that? I thought..."

"Shhh," she interrupted him and softly lay a finger upon his lips to silence him. She did not want one of the others to catch their dialogue. She knew they observed them, she could feel their gazes on her back.

"We could go away," Atalar whispered, Inunyen's finger still resting on his mouth, and the determination in his eyes told her that he was serious about it.

"Away?" she echoed and withdrew her hand from his lips.

"Why not? We could go anywhere we want. To a place far away from my parents, where I am not the son of the steward and you are not the steward's messenger. A place where we can be together, just you and me, and nobody would ever separate us again."

"You speak nonsense. That would never work."

"But..."

"No, Atalar, stop it now!" she hissed in a low voice. His sweet promises made everything even more difficult. She had dreamed of this since she had fallen for him many years ago. How many times had she imagined what it would be like to live a carefree life together with Atalar, a life without lies, intrigues and imperious fathers who controlled both of them... But now that he had spoken her fantasies out loud and promised to make her dreams come true, she wished their lives would go back to what they had been like in earlier days, when they had been nothing more than two teenagers who weren't interested in each other. She was desperate and scared about the future. She didn't know what to do and what to expect. Her inner struggle was killing her.

"You have a very high temperature, you know not what you are saying. You are fantasizing," she added with a softer voice.

"I know very well what I am saying," he replied, his tone suddenly sharp. Then he took a deep breath and looked at her with the saddest expression she had ever seen in a man's eyes.

"So it is nonsense to you that I would give up everything only to be with you?" he asked, his voice trembling with pain, "It is nonsense to you that I love you?"

"No! No, that was not what I was trying to tell you..." she replied desperately, watching the sorrowful expression in his dark eyes. She didn't intend to hurt him like that. But still she thought that his plans were just a castle in the air.

"Sleep now, we have to go a long way tomorrow," she whispered, feeling tears building up in her eyes. She kissed her own fingertips and then gently touched Atalar's forehead with them. She just couldn't kiss him for real when Legolas and Aragorn were watching from behind, although she was sure they already reckoned that there was more between the two of them than the formal relationship that was usually found between masters and servants.

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It was early in the morning and Aerilyn was on her way to apologize to Steward Denethor, like her father had told her. She wore a beautiful dress and her unruly, wild hair was tamed with a lot of tiny barrettes and bands. Nevertheless she didn't feel differently from yesterday evening and her outer appearance didn't reflect her inner feelings at all. Her father could make her look pretty, he could make her apologize for her behavior, but never would he be able to make her change her mind or feelings. She was determined to apologize only for the inappropriate tone she had used during her outburst, not for the meaning of her words.

She turned around a corner of the long corridors and stopped for a moment when she saw the door who would lead her to the man who was going to be her father-in-law, no matter whether or not Boromir ever returned to Minas Tirith alive. She had to admit that she was a bit afraid of coming face to face with him all on her own. Denethor always had been polite towards her, but still there was something about him she didn't like. Aerilyn sighed and quickly walked towards the door. The sooner she started with what she had to do, the sooner she would be finished again. But before she could even reach the door to knock politely, she heard that Denethor was not alone. Faramir was with him and it was unmistakable that they were quarreling heavily as they screamed at each other furiously. Aerilyn decided that it was a most inconvenient moment to bother either of the men with her apologies and turned around to quickly leave again, but then she caught her own name and paused for a moment. She held her breath and tried to understand more of the dialogue between father and son. She usually didn't eavesdrop, but this time she couldn't help it. When she heard that the two men were indeed fighting about her and the planned wedding she got even closer to the door and followed the argument with a racing heart and dry mouth.

"You cannot ask that from me!" Faramir yelled, both rage and despair welling in his voice.

"I can and I will! And you will obey, you are my son!" Denethor hollered back authoritatively.

"I will not marry the betrothed of my brother!" Faramir hissed.

"Faramir! You must marry her! Boromir can not because he rests in eternal peace! Don't you dare to think this is easy for me! My firstborn's precious life was taken! This is a true tragedy for our family and for Gondor! The least you could do now is trying to finish what Boromir was supposed to accomplish, although I doubt you will ever achieve what he would have... But Gondor needs this alliance! Gondor needs an heir that will arise from this bonding!"

"Never will I lie with my brother's love and produce an heir!" Faramir shouted, horrified.

"You must!"

"You cannot force me! I am not one of your stud horses!"

Aerilyn jerked when she heard the loud sound of a very hard slap. Shocked and paralyzed she remained in front of the door, not able to move and not daring to choke or even breathe.

"My brother is not dead!" Faramir said after a few moments of silence, his voice still loud but yet cracking, "You have no evidence of his death! I will not follow in Boromir's footsteps and usurp his position and status under these circumstances! As long as I do not see my brother's corpse with my very own eyes, I will not do a single thing of what you are asking from me! And even if he is proven to be dead, I never will lay my hands upon the woman he loved and with that disgrace his remembrance!"

Aerilyn jerked once more when suddenly the heavy door flew open with a loud bang. Startled and scared, she found herself face to face with Faramir who had pushed his way out of the room so aggressively. He stared back, at least as startled as she was. On his face, the anger about his father mixed with the surprise of finding Aerilyn in front of the door.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her in a low voice, a bit out of breath from yelling so much.

"I just wanted... I..." Aerilyn stuttered, staring at his face that seemed so unfamiliar all of a sudden, so full of deep emotions. He usually was rather quiet and reserved.

"Come," Faramir said, gently grabbed her elbow and led her with him down the corridor.

"I am sorry I was so impolite yesterday," she suddenly said a bit clumsily, remembering her father's order.

"No need to apologize. You spoke true words," Faramir responded without looking at her. They went along the corridors silently for some more moments until Aerilyn couldn't hold it back anymore. She felt as if she would explode if she didn't say something.

"I heard what you and your father said. I am sorry, it is unexcuseable that I listened, but I wanted to tell you that..."

"Hush, Aerilyn. We need to get to a place where we can talk alone," Faramir said. She only nodded and let him guide her through the corridor's quickly until they were in a large room together. Faramir locked the door and offered Aerilyn a seat. She sat down, not paying any attention to the beautiful and expensive furniture. Her mind was occupied with other things at the moment.

"I wanted to tell you that I don't desire this wedding between us, either," she finished the sentence she had wanted to say earlier when they had been on the corridors, "It's not because of you... I mean, I am sure you would make a good husband. But... but my heart belongs Boromir. I love him."

"I know," Faramir said, "And I can only tell you the same you told me. I am sure you will be a lovely wife, but it will not be me who benefits from that. I love Boromir, too. I couldn't do anything that would hurt him."

"But what are we going to do now?" Aerilyn asked while Faramir paced up and down the room, "We cannot simply refuse? Can we?"

"We can," Faramir replied determined, "We only have to stick to our decision. We need to stay together on this. We'll go through this with joined forces."

"My brother used to say that, too. We need to stay together. We will join forces," Aerilyn said and had to smile about the memories, "My parents are no easy ones. Often, Atalar lied to them in order to keep them from punishing me. For example when I broke something, or when I came from playing outsides and made everything dirty. Then he said it was him and not me. And then he got the punishment I was supposed to get, probably even a harder one. I never witnessed how our father hit him, but I saw the damage afterwards. Atalar always had bruises when he was a child, whereas I never had one. Sometimes he cried during the nights, but he never would admit to me that he was hurting. I believe he rather would have let our father beat him to death than stop protecting me."

Aerilyn paused for a moment, caught up in her thoughts, and then looked up to Faramir who had listened silently.

"I am sorry, I don't know why I told you about this. I don't want to bother you with stories from my childhood. It's just...I...," Aerilyn took a deep breath and wiped a tear from her cheek, "I miss him so very much."

"I know exactly what you feel, Aerilyn," Faramir said and sat down next to her. He was missing a big brother, too.

"So you two have a really deep relationship too, I guess?" she asked.

"Yes, I would give my life to save Boromir's. And I am sure he would give his for mine. Actually he tried to protect me from some punishments when we were children, too. Do you want me to tell you about it?"

"Please," Aerilyn said and a small smile spread on her face, "I would love to hear a few stories from your childhood."

"Oh, I have a good one," Faramir said after he had thought for a second, "Boromir had just turned fourteen and I was eight..."

And so they sat together, sharing childhood memories, and both of them had to laugh every now and then although they were full of sorrow about the missing of their brothers.

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~ to be continued ~

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*** Get prepared for some action that will "spice up" the story within the next chapters... And I have a really mean Cliffhanger for you the next time! *Evil grin* I hope you all stay tuned! Cheers! ***


	12. under attack

*** To Riley and everybody else who was surprised to see Aragorn almost starting a dispute with Legolas: I'd like to quote my beta-reader on this matter. When she returned chapter 11 to me, she commented that scene with the following sentence: "I hate to see them go at each other that way, but I'm sure the strain of all they've been through makes tempers short, even in the best of men." I couldn't say it in a better way! 

I'm glad everybody liked the way I've written Faramir & Denethor. I'll put more Faramir into this story, but later. This time it's Boromir's turn again. Hope you enjoy! ***

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About the same time Aerilyn sat with Faramir, listening to stories from the brothers' childhoods, the small company got ready to continue with its journey. The night had been rather exhausting for every member and all of them were still tired when they packed the horses' backs. Legolas was ready to set out again first because Aragorn was cleaning Ghorid's wounds who turned more sluggish with every day, and Inunyen took care not only of her own belongings but also Atalar's. Meanwhile, the young lord sat on the ground and stared straight ahead, his gaze not focusing on anything but going through the trees his face was turned to. He obviously was deeply lost in his thoughts. The blanket Legolas had given to him the last night was still wrapped around his shoulders and his face still was very pale, but his temperature was better again. While Aragorn, Ghorid and Inunyen all were distracted, Legolas went to Atalar, taking some of the water supplies that were slowly running short with him.

"How are you?" he asked quietly and squatted down next to the man. He didn't react at all, he didn't even bat an eyelid. Legolas sighed almost inaudibly and opened the stopper of the water skin.

"Here, you need to drink something," he said and handed the water towards Atalar.

"I'm not thirsty," the young man replied with a husky voice.

"Atalar, please. You will collapse if you don't..."

"I said I'm not thirsty!" Atalar hissed and hit Legolas' outstretched hand away so forcefully that the water skin flew out of the elf's grip and to the ground where the water seeped into the dark earth. Although Legolas' reaction was quick a great amount of the precious water was lost. After rapidly closing it again the elf stared at Atalar for a long moment, not saying a word but penetrating him with an intense gaze.

"I am sorry," Atalar finally said in a voice that expressed unease and shifted his gaze to the ground because he couldn't stand Legolas' piercing stare anymore, "Forgive me, I did not mean to be aggressive towards you. It's just... I..."

"Atalar, look at me," Legolas commanded, his voice calm but with a sharp undertone. The younger man obeyed hesitatingly. Once his gaze was locked with the elf's, Legolas continued with a softer voice again.

"I know this all is very hard for you. And even if you don't believe it, Aragorn and Ghorid know that too. We see that you are going through a horrible tragedy and you have our honest sympathy. I can understand that you feel fury, despair and pain about the loss of your sister, and I see that it is very hard for you to control these emotions. But you need to pull yourself together. At least try it, or this journey will sooner or later fail because we are fighting each other instead of the assassins who did take your sister's life."

"I am trying already," Atalar replied desperately.

"You have to try harder then," Legolas responded. His words were gentle, but nevertheless it was an order. Atalar nodded slowly and batted his eyelids, moving his gaze to the ground again.

"I know that my rage is misdirected," he admitted in a low voice, "Of course I know that Aragorn and you are not the ones to blame for my sister's death. But I feel as though I would explode if I didn't let it out somehow. My emotions are killing me."

"Then stop coping with them all on your own. Let us help you."

"I don't think you can help me."

"How do you know? You didn't even try," Legolas pointed out, "Everything you do pushes us away. We all would support you, but you need to allow us to do so."

"I don't want help from all of you," Atalar said. Just when Legolas wanted to sigh in resignation Atalar raised his head again to look at Legolas' face and added in a low voice: "I guess only your support will do for the moment."

Legolas nodded slowly and gently squeezed Atalar's shoulder. A gesture that expressed confidence and optimism.

"It's a beginning," Legolas said with a faint smile, "And maybe you will be at peace with Aragorn and Ghorid soon, too."

Atalar shrugged weakly.

"Maybe. Not so soon, but perhaps one day in the future."

"Come on now, we have to go on," Legolas said, clasped Atalar's cold hand and helped him up on his feet.

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Boromir lay on the cold ground of his prison again. They hadn't killed him although he had not told them one single word. He was still alive, but he felt far from it. He tried to lie absolutely still because every single movement, however tiny it may be, caused him unbearable pain. They had tortured and humiliated him for hours, and they had done a good job of keeping him wide awake and conscious. But they hadn't been able to get one small piece of information out of him and for that Boromir was grateful. He was grateful that he had managed to stay strong and silent, although his whole body was screaming at him to spit everything out in order to make them stop. What they had done to him was hard to bear, but to betray Gondor and stab his people in the back would have been far worse. 

The questions they had asked him over and over again still rang in his ears. How many soldiers are there to defend Gondor? How many of them are stationed at Minas Tirith? At which point of the border is it least difficult to start an invasion? Where are weaknesses in the tactics? How many guards are there during the day, how many during the night? When exactly is relief of the guards? Where are the weapons and armors kept? They went on like that for hours, trying to get every single detail about Gondor's military powers out of Boromir, but his mouth was sealed. He had expected to get killed, and he would have died at peace with himself because he knew that he had done everything that was within his powers to protect his people, but his time had not come yet. They let him live, more or less, and threw him back in his cell. 

He didn't know for how long he lay there, not moving at all. He wished he could simply fall asleep, he was so tired and exhausted, but the horrible pain kept him awake. He lay for an eternity, listening to the slow, rasping sounds of his flat breathing that forced its way in and out his hurting lungs with a lot of effort. Finally, sleep must yet have come over him abruptly, but he woke up again soon, being drawn back to reality by a voice that was calling his name. He was a bit disorientated at first but could think clearer when the voice spoke to him again. Boromir struggled to get up on his feet and limped to the bars where he sank down to the ground again. He watched the face of the young man who was sitting opposite to him on the other side of the bars. It was the one who had given him water during their journey and for that had gotten punished by the leader of the group. 

"How are you?" the boy asked. Boromir couldn't help laughing faintly, although it felt as if his lungs would explode and his ribs would crack from it.

"What does it look like?" he asked back, his voice nothing more than a whisper. "I feel wonderful. Simply wonderful," he added sarcastically. 

"I got you some water," the young man said, ignoring Boromir's last remark. "I tried to get some food, but it was impossible without the others noticing. Perhaps tomorrow."

Boromir noticed that the man didn't look at him, not even when he handed the water through the bars.

"Do I look that bad?" Boromir asked and a little grin spread on his face, causing his dry lower lip to split. He didn't make the effort to lick the blood away and just let it run down to his chin. There was so much blood on his body already, he didn't care about one little drop adding to it.

"What?" the younger one asked and finally raised his head to lock gazes with Boromir.

"Nothing," he whispered and drank slowly. Every single gulp sent a wave of pain through his throat down his chest, but the thirst was stronger.

"So are you going to tell me your name now?" Boromir asked when he was finished with drinking and felt some energy coming back to his body. The young man hesitated, but then told him that his name was Ralvan.

"Nice to meet you, Ralvan," Boromir said, "I only wish I would have made your acquaintance under different circumstances."

"So do I," the boy replied. Boromir looked at him with narrowed eyes, trying to see what was going on in his mind. For a few seconds he wondered whether it was too early to seriously try to draw the boy on his side, but then again Boromir didn't know whether he would have a chance to try so the next days. Perhaps they would kill him before he had another chance to talk to the young man. With that threatening possibility in mind, he jumped right to the topic, abruptly confronting Ralvan with his extremely blunt question.

"Why don't you help me to get out of here?" Boromir asked and leaned his head against the bars so his face was closer to the other one's, "I can see that you find this wrong. You are a fair one, not like the others."

"Stop that, please," Ralvan said in a low voice.

"Why? Because the others will punish you again if you talk to me?" It was not really a question, more a statement.

"I know that you are afraid," Boromir continued, "I am afraid too. We have good reasons for being afraid, and that's why we have to get away. They will kill us."

"They won't kill me."

"Perhaps not now, but once they find out that you brought me water and food they will," Boromir whispered and wrapped a hand around one of the bars. Ralvan slowly shook his head, but his eyes revealed that he wasn't sure about it at all.

"I tell you, they will kill you. They probably will torture you as well, like they did me. Do you want that? Look at me. Do you want to look similar? You won't be able to get away once it's too late," Boromir tried to talk Ralvan into helping him.

"I shouldn't listen to your words. I'm not even supposed to see you," the young man whispered back and wanted to turn around, but Boromir grabbed his arm through the bars and hold to him tight.

"You aren't supposed to bring me water, either. But still you do."

"There's a big difference between supplying a prisoner with water and helping him to flee. If they find out that it was me who helped you to escape, they will...," His voice faded and he swallowed hard when he realized that Boromir was probably right with his dark predictions.

"We can flee together. I will protect you," Boromir promised.

"You don't even have a weapon," Ralvan pointed out.

"You will get me one."

"No, and now let me go..."

"I promise I will take you with me, to Gondor. I will make sure you will..."

"No!" the younger man interrupted and ripped his arm from Boromir's grip so heavily that he almost fell on his back when he was released.

"I cannot," he added a little lower.

"Of course you can!" Boromir stated harshly. Slowly he got angry.

"No, I cannot... I am sorry."

Boromir snorted disappointedly and pierced the boy with an intense gaze. He obviously couldn't change Ralvan's mind by tempting him with nice promises. It was time to change tactics.

"If you weren't such a coward you would pull yourself together and get me out of here!" Boromir hissed.

"I'm not a coward, I..."

"Then prove it!" Boromir interrupted. Ralvan stared at him without saying one more word.

"Why don't you admit that you want to get away, too? I can see it in your eyes, Ralvan. Deep inside your heart you know that you want to flee from these sick people, too. But you can't do it, because your fear paralyzes you. You fear that you wouldn't make it, and even if you did you wouldn't know where to go. Is it not so?"

When there was no reaction, Boromir repeated in an almost threatening voice: "Ralvan, is it not so?!"

"Yes," the boy whispered, his voice shivering slightly. Boromir sighed faintly and continued with a softer tone, his voice calm and low but determined.

"Listen now. We will flee together. I promise I will not leave without you. We will help each other. You will help me to get out of this cell, I will make sure you will get away from this place alive and can start a new life at Gondor. I will not allow them to do you any harm. But first, you need to get the keys for the padlock and if possible a few weapons. Or at least one weapon. And hurry."

"It would not be very wise to try to escape during this time of the day. We should wait until most of the men are sleeping and there are only a few guards that will have to be overwhelmed."

Boromir nodded.

"Very well. I trust you on this," he said in a low voice. Usually it took him quite some time until he confided in somebody, but this time he had no choice. It seemed that this young man was his only hope and only chance to ever see the daylight again.

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"For how long have you been serving Steward Ribensis?" Legolas asked, trying to get a conversation with Inunyen started. He intended to find out some details about her in order to be able to see beyond the rather cold, emotionless appearance she showed most of the time. He was convinced that it was only a mask. She was playing a game, and probably not a fair one. 

"Did Aragorn order you to interrogate me?" Inunyen asked back harshly.

"No, of course not. I am only curious. I'm sorry if I offended you with asking questions about your personal life," Legolas said. "Besides, Aragorn does not give me orders. No one commands me."

"You are very lucky. I hope you know what a great treasure it is to be free like you are," Inunyen said. Legolas could not see the expression on her face since he was again sitting close behind her, sharing her horse, but he caught clearly that the tone in her voice was a bit downhearted. He tried to think of a response he could give without sounding arrogant. He didn't want her to believe he was feeling pity for or superior towards her because she was a servant while he was the son of a king. Before he could come up with an appropriate sentence to say, Inunyen spoke again.

"I was orphaned when I was about thirteen," she suddenly started to tell him. "My parents and I were always travelling, I can't remember one single town or city we actually lived in for longer than perhaps a week. One day when we were just going through the woods we were attacked by thieves. They killed both my mother and my father, but they let me live. I assume their morals were not low enough to murder a child. To watch how they cut the throats of my parents was the most horrible event I ever experienced." 

"I am sorry to hear that," Legolas said softly when Inunyen paused for a moment. He wondered whether she was fighting back tears.

"Anyway," Inunyen continued, her voice steadier again, "I ran away and soon was lost in those woods. Days and nights passed and finally I broke down. I guess I would have died, but I was found by riders from Katalla just in time. They were scouts from Steward Ribensis and they picked me up to bring me to his empire. Steward Ribensis decided to let me live at Katalla. After all I had no home and no relatives he could have sent me to. Ribensis was very generous. I always had clean clothes, enough food, a warm bed... I was lucky his scouts found me."

"There's something else I was wondering about. May I ask?"

"You may, but I cannot promise that I will answer your question."

"How come you are his messenger?" Legolas asked. "I mean, it's pretty uncommon to have a female messenger. It would have suited the Steward better to make you a handmaiden or something similar."

"You need to know that I lived at his fortress and was raised together with his own children because they were approximately my age. Of course I did not enjoy all the privileges Lady Aerilyn and Lord Atalar did, but I received better treatment and education than the children who were to work at the stables or serve as maids once grown up. When Ribensis found out that I was rather talented with horses I had riding lessons. And when I was older, Atalar secretly taught me how to use a sword. I practiced very hard and when I was nineteen I just asked Steward Ribensis to run the next errand for him. He knew of my skills and he trusts me, so he said yes. I never disappointed him and so I became his primary messenger."

"I am sure you deserve this position," Legolas stated. From what he had seen so far she indeed was an excellent rider, skilled fighter, and very clever too.

"Your turn," Inunyen said, not paying attention to the elf's last remark.

"My turn?" Legolas echoed, not understanding what she meant.

"Don't you think it would be just fair if you told me about your past, now that I've told you about mine?" she asked. Legolas had to smile.

"You are probably right, but to tell you everything about my past would last for ages."

"I never said I wanted to hear _everything _about you."

"So what exactly do you want to hear about?"

"I don't know... Are you married?"

Legolas had expected every question but this one. He was silent with surprise for a second and then almost had to laugh about his own astonishment.

"No, I'm not," he told her.

"How come? I mean, how old are you? A few thousand years probably. How come you didn't meet the right woman in all those years?"

"Good question, actually. I don't know. It just didn't happen yet."

"That's peculiar. Humans, in most cases, find a matching partner in only few decades, and you don't manage in millenia." 

"Maybe it's because humans don't even live for a century, in most cases, and elves are immortal and therefore don't need to rush with anything, not even with picking a lifetime partner."

"Maybe you are just too fastidious about women," Inunyen pointed out with a smile. "Did this possibility ever occur to you?"

"You are quite bold. Did that ever occur to you?" Legolas asked back. 

They went on teasing each other for some time, falling into a lighthearted kind of conversation while they rode onwards. Atalar was close to their side, but he didn't pay any attention to their words. He was, once again, totally caught up in his thoughts. Aragorn and Ghorid were ahead, both of them absolutely silent too. Ghorid had stopped talking in order to hide how bad he was feeling. He was able to keep a straight face and sit in the saddle upright, but his weak and trembling voice would reveal how much pain he was actually going through. Aragorn had stopped asking and begging. He knew that Ghorid's condition got worse with every hour, but he also knew that he never would be successful with talking Boromir's cousin into returning to Gondor. He didn't want to waste his strength having senseless discussions with an obstinate warrior, and so he continued to care for the flesh wounds silently and never again lost a word about Ghorid quitting the journey and leaving the company. The bad luck that seemed to haunt them was weighing heavily on Aragorn's heart and he felt that he was slowly starting to seriously doubt they ever would be successful with this quest. He also feared that the others would lose hope if they saw his doubts and therefore tried his best to hide them. He was grateful and relieved when they left the dark woods and soon rode towards a wide but rather shallow river at which they could replenish their dwindling water supplies. At last they were confronted with an event that was not pushing them closer to failure but helping them on their journey. An event that did not cause tears to flow and tempers to go short, but smiles to spread on exhausted and desperate faces.

Everybody dismounted and got closer to the river. While Aragorn, Ghorid and Atalar stomped right into the water and started to fill up the supplies, Inunyen led their horses to the river to let them drink. Legolas watched her with smiling eyes, guiding his own horse after her. Once the animals were drinking she got rid of her long cloak, folded it and put it on the ground. It was the first time she took it off since she had joined the company and Legolas noticed that everybody was looking at her. There was not much to see though, she wore thick clothes and heavy armor which concealed her female forms pretty well, but still the others were staring. After all they were just men.

"Will you come to the water?" Inunyen asked and Legolas shifted his gaze from his three comrades back to her.

"Yes," he only said while she continued to take clothes off. She put down most of her armor and one more layer of ordinary clothes so that her arms were exposed. She was pretty muscular for a woman and Legolas caught himself wondering how often she had been forced to make use of her strength so far. He smiled faintly when he realized he held a place in the list of her opponents, too. They joined the others together, entering the cold water at the shallow shore. Inunyen bent down and splashed some cold water in her face and then put her wet hands around the back of her neck with a content sigh. After a few seconds she started to roll up the legs of her pants and revealed long, smooth calves of a milky, pale white.

"Inunyen!" Atalar suddenly blurted out as if he had wanted to protest much earlier but had held it back, "Must this be?"

She straightened up rapidly and set her arms akimbo. Atalar, Aragorn and Ghorid were staring at her with a mixture of astonishment, delight and embarrassment.

"Forgive my boldness, but I do not desire to smell as bad as you do," she said to the three men and raised an eyebrow.

"Smell bad?" Aragorn repeated slowly as if he hadn't grasped what she meant and then turned his head to look at Ghorid who only shrugged.

"Yes, you heard right. It would do you good if your skin made some closer contact with water, too. But looking at your startled faces, I see that you three obviously do not know what I am speaking off. So would you please excuse me?" she asked demandingly.

"You want us to go ahead?" Atalar asked and made a gesture to the direction they wanted to head for after their short break at the river.

"Exactly," Inunyen said and nodded, "I assume you are finished with filling up the water supplies. Then why not be gentlemen and leave me a minute?"

"Of course," Aragorn said, still a bit disturbed about the boldness of this woman, and followed Ghorid and Atalar to the horses. When they all sat back in their saddles and had crossed the river, Aragorn brought his horse to a halt and turned around to Inunyen again.

"What about Legolas?" he asked and raised a hand over his eyes to shield them from the dazzling sun.

"He can stay," the female messenger said with a tone that indicated that Aragorn's question was really stupid.

"And why that?" Aragorn wanted to know.

"He does not stare like you do, it is as simple as that."

Aragorn didn't respond anything but gazed to his friend who obviously tried to suppress a smirk. Aragorn only shook his head in disbelief and then rode onwards, catching up with the other two men quickly.

"Do you think I was too harsh?" Inunyen asked once the others were out of hearing.

"No, they were staring indeed," Legolas replied.

"And they smell indeed, do they not?"

"I will not speak badly of my friends behind their backs," he said, but couldn't fight back the grin any longer. 

"Well, that is an answer too!" she replied with a chuckle. Then they silently bottled some water next to each other until something caught Inunyen's attention. She frowned and straightened up a bit.

"What is that?" she asked and pointed to the other side of the river. Legolas followed her outstretched arm and then saw it too. There was something lying in the grass, obviously washed to the shore, and it sparkled heavily as it was reflecting the sun.

"Here, fill this up please, I will go and have a look," Legolas said, handed her his water skin and started to wade through the river. The item of their interest was not only on the opposite shore but also quite some way further down the river, so it took some time until Legolas finally reached it. He bent down and picked it up, turning it in his hand and looking at it closely. It was a golden buckle, beautifully decorated with fine lines of silver forming the tree of Gondor. Legolas wondered whether this was a good or a bad sign. Perhaps Boromir had left it behind by himself to help them finding his tracks more easily, but it was also possible that it had been ripped from him during a fight. Legolas closed his fingers over the buckle, hoping Boromir was still alive.

"Legolas!" Inunyen's voice disturbed his thoughts and brought him back to reality. He heard the sound of horses coming nearer at very high speed and twirled around, scanning the area holding his breath. He frowned slightly when his eyes captured five riders who were approaching them rapidly. It did not need elven senses to feel their hostility, it was obvious they did not come with friendly intentions.

"Inunyen!" Legolas shouted back, "Hurry and warn the others!"

"No!" she screamed back, "I will not leave you here!"

"Go now, quick! I will come after you!" he replied and fought his way back through the water as fast as he could while Inunyen got out of the river and grabbed her sword. Her other things she left behind as there was no time to put everything back on. She quickly climbed her horse and dashed away, throwing a last worried glance at the elf. The water splashed heavily to all sides when she urged her horse through the river, and then Legolas lost her sight after she had hurried up the steep shore. 

He clenched his teeth and started to run once he was out of the water too. His horse seemed so far away, and the strangers came closer quickly. He wondered who they were and what they wanted, but he would be glad if he had not to find out for real. When he finally reached his horse he spoke excusing words to it and then mounted it for the first time since it had been injured by the wolves. Legolas felt that he caused it great pains. It started to dance on the spot nervously, giving protesting noises and throwing his head up in fear. But he had no choice, there was no other way to escape those men who evidently wanted to attack him. And so he urged his wounded and weak horse through the river, after Inunyen and the others, although it made his heart break to torture it like this.

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"Something is wrong," Ghorid said when he saw Inunyen approaching them at extremely high speed. They could not see the expression on her face, but what struck them all was that she had not put her armor and cloak back on. Aragorn frowned while they stopped their horses.

"Where is Legolas?" he asked, more himself than the others.

"We are under attack!" Inunyen yelled when she was close enough to be heard by the others.

"Under attack?" Atalar echoed and frowned, "Who should attack us? Why?"

"I do not know, Lord Atalar," Aragorn said and drew his sword. Even before they could start to ride back to the river, another group of riders broke out of the woods that were to their left side and approached them quickly with drawn weapons. Aragorn once more cursed this whole journey while he shifted his body into a better fighting position, clutching the reins of his horse safely with one hand while he tightened the other one around the hilt of his weapon. Inunyen would not reach them before the attackers did, Ghorid already had problems to keep his balance on his horse without holding a sword, Atalar was overtired, and Legolas wasn't there at all. They would need a great deal of luck to overpower the attackers under these circumstances. Aragorn just wanted to raise his sword and start to race towards the approaching group, ready to begin the battle, when his eyes caught Legolas whose horse obviously struggled hard to get up the steep shore. Aragorn froze in his movement, reined his horse and hold his breath when he watched Legolas urging his injured horse to run as fast as it could while suddenly five more riders appeared behind him, trying to chase him down. Somehow Aragorn already expected something terrible to happen, but when he finally saw the white horse of his friend starting to stumble heavily he couldn't help crying out Legolas' name.

"NO!" Aragorn added in another scream when he witnessed the horse of the male elf falling to the ground, making Legolas crash down with it, while the four attackers came closer at high speed. Aragorn wanted to come to help and urged his horse towards Legolas, but before the horse had the chance to speed up, three of the strangers cut his way and attacked him, forcing Aragorn to defend his own life instead of trying to rescue Legolas. For a second Aragorn heard that Ghroid and Atalar already were fighting, and then the only sounds that reached his ears were the ones of his own sword clashing with the blades of his attackers. 

Legolas didn't hurt himself seriously when he fell and was back on his feet immediately. In a split second he had analyzed the situation and considered the options, and then pulled an arrow out of his quiver to shoot it with deadly accuracy at one of the five men who were chasing him. The arrow hit him exactly in the head and his limp body fell from the galloping horse. They were faster than Legolas had thought they would be and came nearer with every second, determined to slay the elf when they reached him. Legolas hold his breath when he shot one more arrow to bring death to another rider and then turned around to run. The wood was not far away and when he hurried he perhaps, with a great deal of luck, would be able to reach the trees before the remaining three attackers reached him. He didn't look back but ran as fast as his legs would carry him, his gaze focused on the trees that were in front of him. He heard hooves coming closer with every second and the terrifying sounds of swords that were pulled out of their sheaths. The ground underneath his feet started to tremble when the heavy and strong horses were right behind him. They were so close that he could already sense the heat of the animal's huge bodies. Legolas closed his eyes, still running although he knew he would not make it, and waited for a blade to penetrate his sensitive skin, thrusting in the depth of his soft flesh.


	13. freed souls and broken hearts

*** This starts right there where I ended the last chapter (This is exactly what you begged for, Riley! But I was planning to do it like this, anyway.) I don't want to leave you all hanging with this evil cliffhanger for much longer, so here comes chapter 13... Hope you enjoy! *** 

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... He heard hooves coming closer with every second and the terrifying sounds of swords that were pulled out of their sheaths. The ground underneath his feet started to tremble when the heavy and strong horses were right behind him. They were so close that he could already sense the heat of the animal's huge bodies. Legolas closed his eyes, still running although he knew he would not make it, and waited for a blade to penetrate his sensitive skin, thrusting in the depth of his soft flesh. 

He gasped in surprise and quickly opened his eyes again when two hands grabbed him roughly, held to him tight and lifted him up so his feet lost contact to the ground. Inunyen tried to pull him up on her horse that was dashing along the fields at the highest speed it possibly could. Suddenly he felt the grip of her left hand getting so firm that it hurt immensely and he thought her fingers would penetrate his skin every second, while her right hand let go of his body again and rapidly got hold of the dagger Inunyen had tried to kill Atalar with yesterday. With a strong and concentrated movement she threw the small weapon towards the nearest of their chasers. The sharp blade pierced the man's vulnerable throat, injuring him fatally and causing him to fall from his horse. Inunyen looked back down to Legolas who was struggling to not fall down again and offered him her now free hand. 

"Here, Legolas! Take my hand!" she screamed and he grabbed it gratefully, trying to cling at the side of the quickly moving horse. Before Inunyen managed to get him up properly, Legolas saw desperation in her eyes when she raised her head towards the attackers again, moving her gaze behind the elf's back.

"No!" she yelled out of fright and urged her horse to change the direction abruptly. Legolas heard a sword flying past his head with startling force, missing his face only by inches, and then the loud groan of pain that escaped from Inunyen's throat. His eyes widened with horror when he saw the blade that originally had been aimed at his head now was penetrating the upper part of her body instead. It slid in her flesh without resistance as her armor was still lying at the river shore. The sword was withdrawn again as violently as it had been forced into the human body and Legolas almost fell back down to the ground as Inunyen's strength faded and her grip grew weak. He locked gazes with her and saw pure fear in her eyes. Fear of the chasers that were so close behind them, almost next to them, but also fear of letting Legolas fall. They both knew he would be killed, either by the swords of the attackers or by the hooves of their horses if they rode over his body. 

Legolas put one arm around her waist, clasping the saddle with the other hand, and finally managed to pull himself up behind her without her help.

"Inunyen!" he shouted, rapidly closing his arms around her slackened body so she didn't fall off. "You must bring us near Aragorn! Please, do not give up!"

When he saw her getting hold of the reins again and felt her shifting herself in a steadier position he let go of her and pulled another arrow out of his quiver.

"Legolas, no! Hold tight, I beg you!" he heard her voice that was trembling with pain. He put the arrow back quickly and as soon as he closed his arms around her body again she forced her horse to run even faster. Legolas automatically pressed his hands onto her injury to keep back the blood once he felt the warm liquid moisten his palms. He knew that it was hopeless, that the wound was too big and spilling too much blood. He felt the warm gore welling through his fingers, but still he had to try to fight it. It was everything he could do to help at the moment. When a powerful gust made Inunyen's long hair lash into Legolas' face and also pulled on his own, tangling red and blonde strands, Legolas bowed his head and pressed his cheek against Inunyen's back, trying to get even closer to her so the strong wind wouldn't be able to get hold not only of his hair but his whole body and just blow him off the horse. He felt that he wouldn't be able to remain on the horse's back at this speed for a much longer time, no matter how tight he held to Inunyen. If he didn't let go of her soon, he only would pull her with him, bringing death to both of them. 

When he looked behind he discovered with relief that Ghorid was approaching to help. He rapidly caught up coming from the left side and successfully distracted one of the chasers by involving him in a sword battle.

"There is only one man left," Legolas informed the female messenger, but she didn't reply. He said her name out loud and softly shook her, but there was no reaction. When he looked over her shoulder down to her hands he discovered that she wasn't holding to the reins anymore, so he took one of his bloodstained hands from her body and grabbed them himself. With the other arm he held the female body that had gone limp and threatened to lose balance. Legolas forced Inunyen's horse into the direction where Aragorn was who had already battled down two of his three attackers.

"Aragorn! Help!" Legolas yelled when they had almost reached him. Right after bringing death to the third man, Aragorn got his bow and shot Legolas' and Inunyen's chaser from his horse with the first try. While he hurried to support Ghorid and Atalar afterwards, Legolas entered the safer woods where he carefully lifted Inunyen from the horse once they were hidden behind trees and bushes. He softly lay her down on the ground and got down on his knees right next to her. She moaned in pain when he gently shoved her clothes aside to reveal the wound. Legolas furrowed his brows and couldn't help making a very low noise of anguish himself when he examined the injury more closely. He could almost feel some of the physical pain she was going through this very moment. The spilled blood covered her muscled belly and slowly ran and dripped down her sides, creating a pool of red liquid underneath her. Legolas wished he could do more than only holding his hands to the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the blood flow. When she opened her green, watery eyes and looked at him with an expression that made his heart break he said:

"Be strong, I will get Aragorn once the enemy is overpowered. His healing skills will perhaps be a rescue to you."

"No," Inunyen replied weakly and swallowed hard. "It is too late to save my life, the sword was thrust too deep. But it is not too late to rescue Boromir..."

"What do you say?" Legolas asked in confusion and narrowed his eyes.

"Come closer, my voice loses its strength," she whispered and weakly lifted her forearm, begging for a soothing touch. Legolas took one hand from her wound, softly grabbed her cold one and bent deeper down, closer to her terrifyingly pale face.

"What do you know, Inunyen?" he asked, holding her hand tightly to give her at least some comfort.

"Forgive me, Legolas... I am not who I seem to be. I have done evil." 

"You have saved my life," Legolas replied.

"Not enough to repay my debts," Inunyen said and shook her head weakly to emphasize her words. "Listen, Legolas. I wasn't orphaned when I was a child. That was a lie. My whole life is a lie. The truth is that I am the daughter of the steward of An'Dorias."

"I did not know he had a daughter," Legolas said surprised.

"Nobody knows. I was not raised as a daughter but as a weapon. A weapon to force Katalla to bond with An'Dorias. Or at least prevent it from bonding with another empire." 

"I do not understand," Legolas said desperately, frightened that she could pass away before he comprehended what she was talking about.

"My father always wished Katalla to bond with his empire. When Ribensis refused, it was my assignment to provide my father with every possible piece of information about Ribensis' future plans."

"You are a spy?" Legolas asked, slowly being able to see through it.

"Yes. It all was planned. It was planned that the scouts found me in the woods and thought I was a lost child they had to rescue. But in fact I had secret contact to my father all the time, all those years. And now listen to my words well, for I will be able to speak them out loud only once. Everything was a horrible intrigue that was planned wisely in order to destroy the bond between Katalla and Gondor. I shadowed Lord Boromir and Lady Aerilyn, I knew about everything. The arranged wedding, their dislike regarding the marriage, and then... the secret meetings during the nights, the love that grew between them... I knew he wanted to take her with him on a ride, all on their own. It was... It was me who planned the murder attempt. My father's people, people from An'Dorias, assassinated Aerilyn and took Boromir with them, like I had ordered them in the name of my father. My task on this journey was to murder Atalar and afterwards report to Steward Ribensis that it had been Ghorid who killed him. With both his children murdered by very close relatives of Denethor, Ribensis surely would have called to arms and then, perhaps, bond with An'Dorias as our soldiers would have helped to defeat Gondor. I also lied to you when I brought the news about Aerilyn's wellbeing. She lives. I told you that she was dead because I thought it would help stir up the hate and mistrust Atalar feels for Ghorid and Boromir."

"Lady Aerilyn is alive?" Legolas asked with a tone that indicated he didn't believe in Inunyen's words.

"Yes, she is. You have to trust me, this time I tell the truth. But I fear that Aerilyn is in great danger, because she is the only one, apart from Boromir, who could identify the assassins and with that ruin my father's plans. I am sure he already hired new people to put an end to her life." 

She paused for a moment to gather some energy before she added: "Those men who are attacking us... They are men from An'Dorias. My father must have sent them in order to kill me and Atalar, or even all of us. I assume he grew suspicious as I did not fulfil his latest order yet. Please Legolas, I want you to take my horse. Ride to the north, to the mountains, and you will find what you seek. You are almost there, it is not far from here where they keep Boromir. You did very well tracking them down." 

Her voice faded and she looked the elf deep in the eyes, a begging expression in them. Just when Legolas wanted to reply something, she parted her pale lips again and took a faint, shivering breath.

"Please, do tell Atalar...," she began, but then abruptly stopped speaking, trying to fight back the tears that gathered in her eyes. Only one escaped as she continued with a whisper so low that even Legolas found it hard to get her words.

"Tell Atalar that I loved him with all my heart and soul, and that I will always do so. I detest myself for trying to kill him. I tried more than once, but I just couldn't do it because he is the only one who brightened up my gruesome, dark life. He made my life worth living." Inunyen smiled faintly at some memories Legolas could only guess and lost a few more tears. "Tell Atalar that his words were the loveliest that ever were addressed to me and that I would have gone with him. He will understand."

"Yes, I will tell him," Legolas promised and gently squeezed her hand.

"Tell everybody I owe you my deepest apologies. I did not deserve to travel amidst upright and loyal people like you."

Legolas shook his head slowly, proving her statement wrong.

"Your heart is brave and good. You are forgiven, Inunyen. You shall rest in peace," he said softly, knowing that her end was near. She nodded gratefully and shed a few more tears while her breath turned slower and weaker with every second. Her last words came out in a very low and rasping pant.

"Thank you, Legolas of Mirkwood," she whispered, her pale lips hardly moving. Her breathing ceased, her hand lost its weak grip and the wild sparkle in her eyes was lost for good when she ultimately entered the eternal sleep. After so many years of betrayal, submission and self-deception, Inunyen was finally free.

With a tiny sigh Legolas lifted his hands to her pale face, gently closed her eyes and then folded her hands over her chest. 

"Rest in peace," he repeated in a low voice and ran his fingertips over her cheek, leaving red traces of blood on her white skin. He rose on his feet again when he heard the sounds of battling from the fields. He couldn't do anything for her anymore, but his comrades needed help. He turned around, climbed Inunyen's horse and hurried back to the others, pulling a few arrows and his bow on his way.

The enemies were beaten soon and the four comrades gathered to see whether anybody was wounded and needed aid. They all were fine, apart from exhaustion and a few bruises. No serious harm was done. At least not concerning the male members of the company.

"Where is Inunyen?" Atalar asked when he noticed that she was missing. 

"Legolas?" he added in a fearful tone, his gaze ranging over Inunyen's horse the elf straddled. When Legolas didn't reply he shifted his gaze up to the elf's face again, but not without noticing the blood on Legolas' hands and forearms.

"No...," Atalar said in a cracking voice and slowly shook his head, refusing to accept that something terrible had happened to her, although it was more than obvious. He didn't need a spoken answer, he could read it in Legolas' sorrowful eyes.

"Where is she?" Atalar asked. "Please, I want to see her."

Legolas only nodded and led the others closer to the woods silently. When Inunyen's lifeless body was in sight Legolas, Aragorn and Ghorid stopped their horses while Atalar dismounted so quickly that he almost fell.

"Maybe it's not too late," Aragorn said and changed a concerned look with Legolas who shook his head sadly.

"There is nothing you could do, Aragorn. She is dead."

Aragorn nodded slowly and shifted his gaze to the ground, wondering whether Inunyen would still live if they hadn't split up the group when they had been at the river. A heartrending sound made him forget about his reflections and focus on the time at present again. He turned his head to the source of the low noise and witnessed how Atalar, who had fallen down on his knees next to Inunyen's dead body, drew her tightly against his chest in a loving embrace.

"That poor boy," Aragorn murmured and looked back to Legolas again. "He's so young and yet he has to go through so much pain."

Without thinking about it, Aragorn wanted to dismount in order to go towards Atalar, but Legolas grabbed his shoulder and held him back.

"I will go," the elf said.

"I will come with you," Aragorn replied, but Legolas softly shook his head.

"I have something to tell him that is only for his ears to hear."

Aragorn nodded understandingly and shifted his gaze back to the mourning young man again.

"I don't want to sound heartless, but you need to keep in mind that we have to continue with our journey soon," he told the elf.

"I fear his heart will not be an easy and quick one to soothe, Aragorn."

"He needs to pull himself together."

"He is not as experienced as we are, he can not cope with intense emotions like these all on his own yet. He's only about twenty-five, you are demanding too much from him."

"I wouldn't be so demanding if it wasn't necessary," Aragorn responded. 

"I know, I'm sorry," Legolas replied and sighed inaudibly. "Let me see what I can do."

"Let me know if I can help somehow. We will keep within hearing," Aragorn said and then followed Ghorid who had moved further away to give Atalar some privacy.

Legolas dismounted gracefully and slowly approached Atalar who still clutched to the corpse of his secret beloved, wetting her cold and lifeless skin with silent and restrained tears. Legolas wasn't sure what to say or what to do when he looked down to Atalar who looked so miserable that he felt a sting going through his own heart, just from watching. While he still was trying to come up with something appropriate to say, Atalar suddenly spoke without taking his gaze from Inunyen's face.

"Why, Legolas?" Atalar asked with a shaky voice full of pain and sorrow. "Why was she taken from me?"

"I do not have an answer to that, Atalar," Legolas said softly and squatted down slowly, his brown eyes mirroring the pain he saw in the young man's face, "but I have something important to tell you."

When Atalar raised his head and looked at Legolas desperately, his dark eyes filled with yet unshed tears that made them look like two deep and sad oceans, the elf continued to speak.

"Inunyen's last words were addressed to you."

"What did she say?" Atalar whispered and sniffed slightly.

"She asked me to tell you that she loved you with all her heart and soul, and always will do so. She said she would have gone with you," Legolas said with the softest tone he could possibly create, and he saw that Atalar indeed understood what Inunyen had meant. He carefully lowered her back to the ground and ran his fingertips over her face ever so softly while his lower lip began to tremble. He shut his eyes tight, concentrating on suppressing a heavy sob that build up in the depths of his body and threatened to explode from his throat.

Legolas couldn't help getting closer to the young man to offer him support. He expected Atalar to push him away or ignore him, too often Legolas had learned that he was a stubborn and introverted man who wasn't fond of people he didn't know well. But to his surprise Atalar let himself sink against the elf's body and buried his face against Legolas' shoulder. Now as he found comfort he couldn't fight it back anymore and massive grief broke out of him like an avalanche, getting more powerful with every single sob. Legolas carefully closed his arms around the younger man and softly held his heavily shivering body, his hands resting on the crying human lightly as a feather. He noticed that Atalar was much more delicate than he actually seemed. His body was muscular but very slender, similar in character of his sister's. Legolas found him almost fragile as he was breaking down in his arms, crying his heart out. The sounds that came from deep within him sounded almost inhuman, so thick with desperation and sorrow. The heartrending atmosphere took control over Legolas quickly and soon he found himself crying too. Not nearly as heavily and loudly as the younger man, but he could not prevent a few tears from falling down his smooth cheeks silently. Hot wetness crept over his shoulder when Atalar's tears slowly seeped through to Legolas' skin and he felt strong fingers digging in his flesh when Atalar clutched to the elf's body in violent desperation, but he did not move a tiny bit. Legolas sat still, willing to give comfort as long as it would be needed.

Suddenly Legolas felt one of his elven daggers being drawn quickly and it was only thanks to his rapid reactions that he captured Atalar's wrist before he had a chance to plunge the sharp blade deep into his chest, right into his aching heart. The tip of the dagger came to a halt only inches from Atalar's body and Legolas had to summon up quite some strength to bar Atalar from carrying out what he had in mind. 

"Let it go," Legolas said, his eyes fixed on the man's wet face that was so full of desperation but also determination.

"No," Atalar whispered, his fist closed tightly around the weapon. Legolas was surprised, almost shocked about the physical power Atalar managed to develop under these circumstances.

"Let it go," the elf repeated, his words coming out as a harsh order this time, "Suicide is no solution. Ever." 

"Let me do it! Please, I want to die!"

"Atalar! Come back to your senses and let go of the dagger! _Now_!" Legolas yelled back, his voice bearing a dangerous undertone.

"But I can't take this any longer," Atalar sobbed and let the dagger fall to the ground, much to the relief of Legolas. "My life crumbles to pieces and I can't do anything about it. My life has lost its purpose, everybody who was dear to my heart was taken from me."

"No, Atalar, listen to me," Legolas said while he rapidly threw the dagger out of Atalar's reach and then gently wrapped his hands around the younger man's upper arms. Atalar looked at the elf with big, bloodshot eyes, thick liquid drops hanging in his long and dark eyelashes, waiting only for a blink to fall down on his flushed face.

"Your sister is alive," Legolas said softly.

"What?" Atalar asked almost inaudibly.

"Aerilyn lives, she is not dead. She is in Minas Tirith and waits for your return."

"But how... I mean... I do not understand, Legolas," Atalar whispered desperately.

"Trust me, Atalar, it is the truth. I will tell you about everything later. You need to bid Inunyen farewell now, we must continue with our journey."

"We cannot leave her lying here like that," Atalar said, his voice still shaky but not as low as before. "Would you help me? Please?"

"I'd be honored to give you a hand on this matter," Legolas replied.

"Thank you, Legolas."

And so they arranged a base of stones on the wide fields on which Inunyen's body could be burnt without the risk of the flames affecting the surrounding nature. They carefully wrapped Inunyen in her huge cloak, softly lay her down on the stony bed and set the thick fabric of the cape on fire. Legolas sang a short but beautiful lament since Atalar was choked with sorrow and couldn't bring one word out of his mouth when he observed how hungry flames licked around his lover's body. Aragorn and Ghorid watched from discreet distance, both taking part at the prayers silently. When Legolas was finished he gently put a hand on Atalar's shoulder and squeezed soothingly.

"The wind will carry her ashes to all the beautiful places I would have gone to together with her," Atalar said, caught up in his memories.

"I am sure she would have liked that," Legolas said and then dragged Atalar softly with him. "We need to go on," he explained while they turned their backs to the fire that claimed Inunyen's lifeless body. "Or would you rather go back to Gondor to meet your sister? We would understand."

"No. We have gone such a long way already, I don't want the strains and losses of this journey to be in vain," Atalar said and his voice sounded more steady again. "Too much innocent blood was shed already. We have to find Boromir before his life is taken too. Let's go."

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Everybody relieved I let Legolas live?? I guess I never could kill him, honestly! But my poor Inunyen... _SNIFF, SOB_ ... I grew so attached to her while writing her character... But that's the way the story goes, right? (Or to say it in another way: Shit happens, even in Middle-Earth!) Cheers, and don't forget to leave a review! ;o) 


	14. chapter 14

*** I think I got Legolas' eyes wrong in this story. I said that he has brown eyes (because Orlando Bloom has brown eyes), but in the movie he wears blue contact lenses, doesn't he? I'm not sure. However, this is my story, and "my" Legolas has brown eyes. I hope things are clear now. 

Riley: Don't worry, I don't find your reviews boring at all! Please keep on telling me what you think. 

Acacia wants more Boromir, Sarahduck wants more Aerilyn... I have good news for you: This chapter features them both! Yay! Hope everybody enjoys. ***

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Boromir waited for hours, but nothing happened. Finally sleep came over him and he only woke up again when he heard the door to his cell being unlocked. He hurried to get on his feet and quickly approached the source of the noise, forcing his body to ignore the overwhelming tiredness and unbearable pains. But before he reached the door he stood paralyzed, clenching his teeth in despair. No words could ever express the disappointment he felt the moment he discovered that it wasn't his young helper who had come to unlock his cell.

"So eager to come with us?" one of the two men asked with an evil grin, referring to Boromir's swift movement towards them. The man from Gondor didn't reply but silently backed away again when his abductors came closer, but of course there was no way to escape and only minutes later he found himself in another room. He was lying on a table, front side down, wrists tied together behind his back. Two men to either of his sides made sure he remained in place and didn't attempt to get up or even flee.

"I'm going to ask you one last time," the group's leader explained to his maltreated victim. "Answer the questions or somebody is going to die a very painful death."

Boromir couldn't help grinning faintly, causing his enemy to slap him across the face. 

"Don't grin at me like that! Besides, do you really think it's so funny to die?"

"Do you really think your threats have the slightest effect on me?" Boromir asked back with a low, hoarse voice. "You threatened to kill me already twice, but I am still alive. Do you seriously think I fear you will act out your threats now? No, I'm not afraid of your words. You lost your credibility."

"Boromir, Boromir," the leader said with a soft sigh and shook his head. "You must learn to not be so self-centered. The world does not revolve only around you."

Boromir raised his head a bit to be able to look at his abductor's face, furrowing his brows when he saw the cold smile on the man's face that predicted nothing good.

"Who said it was you who is going to be killed?" The leader straightened up and gave a sign to one of his men. "Bring him out!"

The last glimpse of hope that had been in Boromir's heart died away when he saw how two men dragged Ralvan into the room, placing him a few feet in front of the table Boromir was lying on. The young man was tied up too and pure dread was showing on his face.

"If you speak we will let him live," the leader said calmly, "But if you refuse to spit out what we want to know, you will watch your little friend die."

He gave one of the men that had gotten hold of Ralvan a sign and he pressed a dagger against the young neck, pricking the skin slightly until a few drops of blood trickled down his throat. Boromir saw the panic in the young man's eyes, the sweat of pure dread that arose on his face.

"He's not my friend," Boromir replied, his voice emotionless and monotone.

"Is he not?" the leader asked and raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe we are stupid enough to let this unpredictable, foolish boy run around in this dungeon without keeping an eye on him all the time? And I mean all the time."

When Boromir didn't respond, his opponent continued to speak, his voice mocking Boromir.

"We can flee together... I will protect you... I promise I will take you with me to Gondor..." His dark eyes narrowed and he squatted down again to see his prisoner directly in the face. "Now, does this not sound familiar to you?"

"I know not what you mean," Boromir stated stubbornly.

"Liar!" A second slap hit Boromir's face, harder this time. "Why won't you admit it? We know that you were planning to flee with the help of this dirty brat, so don't pretend that he doesn't mean anything to you! Tell us what we want to know and he will live..."

"I will not tell you anything, no matter how gruesome your threats are," Boromir said and shifted his gaze to Ralvan, his eyes expressing a silent and desperate apology.

"Are you aware that it will be your fault that a young life will be taken in a few seconds?"

"I will not tell you anything," Boromir repeated determined and shifted his gaze to the ground again, not being able to stand Ralvan's begging stare any longer. The leader of the group looked to his companions and gave a short nod. Boromir winced slightly and closed his eyes when he heard a scream full of pain that echoed through the dungeons.

"Look at him!" the leader yelled, firmly grabbed Boromir's head and turned his face towards Ralvan whose face had turned pale all over while bright red blood was spilling from a wound on the very left of his neck. The blade that still stuck in the young flesh had penetrated only few inches so far.

"He is not dead yet, Boromir. Don't you want to save him? Look closely! And then tell me if you really want to kill him!"

"You are killing him, not I!" Boromir yelled back, feeling guilt rising inside of his heart.

"But you could easily rescue his life! It's only one word, Boromir. One word or one number you have to say out loud. Trade your military knowledge for the life of an innocent boy. That is a fair deal, don't you think?"

"No..." Boromir said, his voice getting weaker. He felt the horrified expression in Ralvan's gaze pinning right through his heart and soul. The desperation in his eyes was hard to stand, but Boromir knew he just couldn't give in. He wished he could save Ralvan, but it was not possible. The wellbeing of his people was of highest priority. He could not risk it only to safe the life of a single boy, nor his own life.

"Say it, Boromir!"

"No! Shut up!" Boromir yelled back desperately.

"Say it or we will slaughter this boy just like we did the girl who was with you in the woods the other day!"

The words hit Boromir harder than any bash ever could. The horror must be written all across his face, revealing the pain he felt, as an evil, satisfied grin spread on the leader's face.

"It was really a pity. She was so sweet, young and beautiful," he continued, the grin growing even wider. 

"You bastard! What did you do to her?!" Boromir screamed out of his mind. He attempted to get of the table in order to throw himself onto his opponent, but strong hands grabbed him and violently forced him back into position. Boromir clenched his teeth, breathing heavily with rage.

"She tried to run away, but of course she had no chance. She begged for her life. _Please_, she cried, _please let me go_. But I didn't. I killed the sweet little thing with your dagger, Boromir. And believe me, it was a most painful and very slow death."

"No!" Boromir yelled, tears welling in his eyes.

"Oh yes, and she deserved it! She was not only a spoiled, sniveling brat, but also a lecherous whore who was unable to curb her immoral lust!"

"Don't you dare talk about her like that!" Boromir screamed furiously.

"But I only say the truth. We saw you, Boromir. We saw her opening her legs for you, and while we prepared for our attack you mounted her... We were there all the time. We witnessed everything. " 

"I will kill you," Boromir pressed the words out between gritted teeth, his eyes reflecting nothing but pure hate. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. How could this be? How could he not have noticed that they had been observed all the time? Had he been so much caught up in their lovemaking that his warrior instincts and senses had failed him? What a downfall, what a shame... 

"I will kill you, of that you can be certain," Boromir repeated, his voice low but threatening. The leader laughed softly.

"Yes, of course you will," he said sarcastically and rose on his feet. "But it's my turn to draw some blood first," he replied and gave his companion another signal.

"Please, no..." Ralvan sobbed, his voice sore and husky as his neck was injured, "I didn't do anything... Please."

But there was no mercy. Boromir watched in horror how the dagger that stuck in the side of Ralvan's neck was forced through the soft flesh, cutting the full length of the boy's throat. The young man's eyes widened in pain and he tried to gasp, but he could not. The blood was everywhere, choking him and creating a red mess on his clothes and the ground. Boromir closed his eyes and a second later heard how the lifeless body of the boy fell to the ground.

"I guess I regained my credibility, no?" the leader asked coldly and then stepped closer to the table, his hands clutching Boromir's dirty, soaked shirt.

"Hand me the knife!" he commanded and with one strong movement ripped the expensive fabric apart, revealing Boromir's bare and bruised back.

"I ask you a last time: How many soldiers are there to defend Gondor?!"

Boromir did not respond.

"How many?!" the voice yelled furiously. When he still didn't say a word cold metal was starting to prick on Boromir's bare back.

"This time we won't be as gentle with you as the last times, do you understand?"

The sharp blade cut his flesh deeply, parting it as if it was softer than warm butter. Boromir clenched his teeth to suppress any noise of pain. His jaw was aching so badly, it felt as if his teeth would start cracking every second. Hot blood slowly flowed down his sides in thick lines.

"How many?!" 

Boromir did not know how often they had asked him already. He had stopped counting, like he had stopped counting the bashes, cuts, kicks,... A second long cut was made from his left shoulder blade down his back, parallel to his aching spinal column. A shivering whimper filled the room and it took Boromir some time to realize that this whining sound came from his own throat.

"Hand me the salt," he heard his torturer say coldly. Boromir felt panic growing in his stomach and he tried to wind out of his torturers' hands, but there was not even a tiny chance of escaping the torments. And then he experienced pain so bad he hadn't known a human body could ever bear it. At first, he thought he would faint or maybe die, the overwhelming pain lay everything to sleep inside of him. He could not see, smell, taste, hear, breathe, speak, think. Nothing. There was only the pain, nothing else. He fought the darkness that surrounded him and numbed his senses, but when he was successful with escaping the stupor and everything came back he suddenly wished he had fallen unconscious indeed. A noise broke from him so violent in nature that it could not be described as a simple scream. He instinctively tried to move away, but strong hands held him in position and the torture continued. Soon he was too weak to make any attempt to defend himself. He just lay on the table, paralyzed, his whole body numb with pain. He couldn't move at all, not even his lips, and he felt the thick mixture of blood and saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth on the hard wooden surface of the table, merging with salty tears that came from his eyes. He couldn't remember when he had cried the last time in his life, and he was ashamed that these hideous, evil-hearted creatures had managed to draw tears from him, a tough, proud and strong warrior. At last he had to admit that the leader of the abductors had been right. He had indeed demolished Boromir's strength. 

Boromir gasped when he was dragged from the table and flung to the cold, hard ground. He struggled hard to get control over his body, but finally he managed to shift himself into a kneeling position. If he was going to die, he wouldn't do so lying with his face down.

"Do you have a last wish, Boromir of Gondor?" the leader asked and outstretched the blade of his sword to Boromir's direction until the tip bored into the ripped remains of Boromir's shirt. 

"Then speak now, for you will be silenced in only a short moment!" With that he pulled the sword back again, tearing the clothes from Boromir's maltreated body. The abductors eyes narrowed when his gaze captured the necklace that hung from Boromir's neck and he approached, squatting down to have a closer look. A smile spread on his rugged face when he eyed the many tiny jewels and gems that were sparkling in the light of the torches that illuminated the room. His grin grew even wider when he turned the amulet around and saw the fine engraving on the backside.

"Aw, how sweet!" he stated loudly, causing the other men to join his laughter, "It's a necklace that once belonged to his mother Finduilas... How heartrending."

"You surprise me," Boromir whispered exhaustedly, "I didn't think you could read." 

Boromir felt a wave of satisfaction washing through himself when he saw the baffled and angry expression in the leader's eyes. He had managed to make him speechless for a second, maybe even hurt him a bit. It was only a small triumph, but it felt good. Boromir smirked. The back of the leader's hand hit his face so hard that his head flew to the side and the blood that had gathered in his mouth burst past his lips and collided with the nearby wall. But the faint, satisfied smile was still there when Boromir turned his face back towards the abductor.

"You will regret that!" the leader yelled once he had found his tongue again and abruptly ripped the necklace from Boromir's neck.

"Give it back to me!" Boromir said aggressively, piercing the other man's eyes with a sharp gaze. His opponent stuffed the necklace in a pocket of his clothes and returned Boromir's icy stare.

"Your mother is lucky she died when you were only a small boy," he said, "Like this she didn't have to see her firstborn son grow to the cowardly weakling he is these days."

Boromir would have given anything to beat the life out of this man, but his shackles made it impossible to act out physical violence. And so he did the only thing he was able to do in the condition he was in. He spat at his opponent, the thick mixture of blood and saliva hitting the man exactly in the face.

"I should have killed you much earlier!" the leader pressed his words through clenched teeth while he wiped the sleeve of his shirt over his right eye to free it from the burning mixture. Boromir didn't shift his gaze to the ground when he saw the blade of the abductor's sword being raised over his head. He would get killed, yes... But he would get killed with his head up high, his eyes wide open and the knowledge that he had at least tried to fight them until the very end. He was much, but not a cowardly weakling.

The sword came down fast and powerful and a painful groan echoed in Boromir's ears. To his great confusion the sound of anguish did not come from his own throat and with huge surprise he realized that the burning pain caused by the blade throbbed only in his left upper arm. He was still alive...

He jerked when the leader of the abductors fell to his knees in front of him, his eyes expressing horror and pain. Boromir's eyes narrowed in confusion when he saw that an arrow penetrated his opponents throat. What was going on? Why would somebody of the others shoot his own leader? The same moment the leader's now dead body fell backwards, a gentle hand touched Boromir's shoulder. Boromir gasped and almost fell, but a man grabbed him carefully and held him, preventing him from hitting the ground.

"Aragorn?" Boromir asked in disbelief and blinked a few times to see past the blur.

"Yes, it's me. Don't worry, we will get you out of here," Aragorn whispered and captured Boromir's head in his hands once Boromir had his balance again. 

"Legolas, Lord Atalar and your cousin are here as well. We will bring you back to Minas Tirith."

Boromir opened his mouth to speak, but Aragorn interrupted him quickly.

"Shhh," he whispered, gently wiping strands of blood-soaked hair from Boromir's bruised face, "Do not talk. We need to hurry. We managed to get rid of the men who were in this room quickly and silently, but it's only a matter of time until others will come and find out we are here to rescue you." Aragorn swallowed hard and then looked Boromir deep in the eyes, feeling his heart ache at the broken expression in the other man's gaze.

"You will be fine," Aragorn promised while he started to free Boromir's wrists. "I will get you out of here, and if it's the last thing I will do in my life. I will get you out of here."

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Aerilyn lay in her bed awake, rolling over and turning from one side to the other again and again in a desperate attempt to find a better sleeping position. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't come to stillness. Her thoughts revolved around nothing but Boromir and Atalar, hindering her from finding rest. The possibility of never seeing either of them again scared her more than anything. Atalar had been around her almost every day of her life, they had hardly   
been separated from each other for longer than one or two days. It would have been hard for her to stay at Gondor while her brother returned to Katalla, but to not even have the chance to be gifted with a visit from him every now and then ripped her heart to pieces. The moment she learned of his death, that is if he was dead, a part of her would die away and nothing and nobody could ever bring it back to life, of that she was certain. She doubted that she would ever again laugh and smile if he really had been killed. No one would ever be able to soothe her and make the pain of the overwhelming loss go away. Atalar was not only her brother, he was her best, intimate friend, her protector, teacher, advisor, soulmate,… He was her everything. Nobody could ever replace him. Nobody. Not even Boromir. 

Boromir… She loved him very much, but it was so different from what she felt for Atalar. She didn't even know this man of Gondor very well, and he didn't know her for real. Sure, they had spent time together and they had talked for hours, but it needed more than that to really get to know each other. Her strong feelings for him had developed almost out of nothing. They were just there, deep in her heart, and she couldn't describe them or reason why. The affection for him had sparked off in only few days while the devotion for her brother had grown and deepened for many, many years. But yet she loved both of them with emotions that rivaled each other in purity and ardor, and she felt like going insane if she had to be without either of them for one more single day. 

With a low sigh full of sadness Aerilyn finally got out of her bed, quickly dressed and left the room silently. Maybe she would be able to fall asleep later on if she first went for a little walk instead of rolling around on the mattress for ages. She exited the building and inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh and cool air of the chilly night. The streets were dark, silent and empty. Almost spooky. For a second Aerilyn hesitated to return to her chambers, but then she started moving and quickly made her way through the sleeping city. It didn't take long until she had to hide in the shades of a small archway in order to escape the vigilant eyes of a small group of 

guards who were patrolling the privileged districts of Minas Tirith. She wasn't very fond of running into the arms of anybody who would bring her back to her safe rooms and report to her father that she had sneaked away, and so she waited for the guards to be out of hearing range again and quickly made her way to the huge gardens. Now as they were dark and deserted

the gardens seemed even bigger than they were anyway, but Aerilyn advanced deeper to the centers to be as far away as possible from the streets and the guards. She sat down on a wooden bench and drew her cloak closer around her when she started to shiver slightly. She sat for a long time thinking until she slowly began to doze off, her eyelids falling close against her will. 

Maybe she would have fully fallen asleep here on this uncomfortable bench in the cold, but before she could find rest a sudden sound made her eyes shoot open again. She sat up, held her breath and waited. Just when she thought she only had dreamed, there it was again. A sound as if twigs were crushed and broken under a heavy step. Aerilyn jumped to her feet and quickly turned to the direction from where the noise had come.

"Hello?" she asked in a low voice that revealed her fear. Suddenly she wished she had indeed bumped into the guards instead of sneaking into the deserted gardens.

"Is anybody there?" she added and swallowed. _Maybe it's just a hare or a squirrel_, she tried to calm herself down. _That's it, and tomorrow you will laugh about your cowardice..._

The third sound was much closer and Aerilyn started to run out of reflex although she still clung to the idea that it was just a small animal that created those noises. This thought was ultimately destroyed when she realized that she didn't hear only her running feet hitting the ground but  
also the heavy, very quick steps of somebody else. Aerilyn didn't dare to turn around, but she could easily tell that those steps were coming closer rapidly. She was being pursued. With a wail of dread and despair she let her cloak fall down, increasing her pace to the extreme. Without thinking she abruptly changed the direction she was heading for, crossed a small flowerbed and forced her body through a few bushes until she found herself surrounded by nothing but trees. Twigs cut her skin when she broke through them, urging herself through the narrow gaps between the trees, branches and bushes. But it had the effect she had hoped for, her chaser was left behind as he was too big to follow. When she realized the pursuer was not coming after her anymore, Aerilyn collapsed to the ground and remained lying there for a moment, trying to catch her breath. She couldn't believe what just had happened and struggled hard to keep back tears. Would this nightmare never end? It seemed as if somebody wanted her death, no matter what, and she had no idea why. Well, perhaps it wouldn't be that bad to get killed. If she indeed had lost both ardently beloved brother and fiancé she didn't want to go on with her own life anyway...

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Don't cry, she told herself. _Pull yourself together, you need to get back to_ _your chambers or at least find the guards._

Slowly she made her way past the trees and bushes, careful to not suffer much more cuts and scratches. She just wondered how to explain the totally ruined dress to her father the next morning when she stumbled out of the trees and bushes and reached one of the many paths that led through the gardens. She had lost orientation and didn't know to which direction she should turn in order to find the shortest way out of here, but she was relieved to be on the path again and quickly snatched up her dress a bit so she could move faster. She had only managed to run a short distance when she was hit in the side by something very huge and was flung to the ground.

Driven by pure dread she was up on her feet running only in a split second, although her ankle had been strained by her fall and was hurting madly. The pain slowed her down greatly and a short moment later she was grabbed from behind and her desperate attempt to flee was proven futile. She wanted to scream, but a gloved hand quickly covered her mouth while a strong arm was wrapped roughly around her waist. She was lifted up with a swift, violent movement, her feet lost the ground and she couldn't breathe. Thrashing about in panic she tried to get free, but no matter how hard she moved, hit and kicked, her attacker's grip remained powerful and firm. He carried her away from the path, back to the deeper and hidden places of the gardens. Aerilyn  
tried to bite his hand, but his gloves were made of thick leather and her efforts didn't affect him at all. She felt tears gathering in her eyes. This had to be a horrible nightmare. She just had to wake up again and everything would be fine. It could not be that something like this happened twice in a row... could it?

Suddenly the arm let go of her waist and Aerilyn immediately tried to run away, but the hand on her face pulled her head back against the man's shoulder so roughly that she thought her neck would break from it. Her jaw was aching from the firm lock of his strong fingers, and the flesh on the inner side of her mouth started to bleed because it was pressed and rubbed against her teeth so violently. But all the pain was forgotten when she saw the man's arm being raised in front of her eyes that widened with horror and dread. She saw the dark, emerald-green sleeve of the man's shirt, the black glove he was wearing, and the large dagger he held in his hand. Aerilyn felt as if somebody had turned back time, she experienced the same terrible feelings, the same mortal agony she had felt the moment she had been attacked in the woods.

She held her breath and closed her eyes when the sparkling blade plunged down towards her chest. Without even thinking she raised her hands to protect herself and stop the thrust that was aimed at her heart. Hot pain washed through her when she felt the weapon cutting her flesh while she tried to grab the attacker's hand or arm. Trying to ignore the burning pain in her cut forearm she somehow managed to make her attacker lose grip of his weapon. When he quickly bent down to pick it up again she pulled with all her might and finally escaped his hand. She didn't look back, didn't look at her injuries, didn't pay attention to the horrible pains in her arm and ankle. She only ran as fast as she could. Ran, ran, ran,...until she bumped into somebody. She cried out and raised her fists, ready to fight whoever it was, but when she looked up with panicking eyes she caught a familiar face.

"What's wrong, Aerilyn?" Faramir asked and softly closed his hands around her upper arms.

"Oh, Faramir!" she sobbed and pressed herself against his body, searching for shelter and comfort.

"You are injured," he remarked when he discovered her bleeding forearm. 

"What happened to you?" he added when he noticed that she was a mess. Cuts and scratches all over, ripped dress, dirty skin and clothes, soaked with sweat.

"There was a man..." she told him in a low voice that was a bit muffled because her face was buried tightly against his chest.

"A man?" Faramir asked and put a hand on the back of her head protectively.

"Yes, he attacked me," Aerilyn continued to tell Boromir's brother with pure fear in her voice. It was so good to feel his strong hand gently touching her. His caress was like a guarantee to guard her, protecting her from whoever wanted to do her harm.

"You are safe now. I won't leave your side," Faramir promised and ran a hand over her hair while he scanned the surrounding area with narrowed, watchful eyes.

"I was so afraid, I thought he would kill me."

"What did he look like?" Faramir wanted to know.

"I don't know. I didn't see his face," Aerilyn said and backed away a bit so she could look at Faramir who watched her with a more than worried expression in his eyes. 

"I only know that he..." She ended her sentence abruptly and stared at Faramir in a way that made him feel uneasy, maybe even frightened.

"That he what?" Faramir asked, following her stare that was focused on her own, blood covered hands that clutched to his shirt.

"That he wore an emerald-green shirt with brown ornaments like...this one..." Aerilyn whispered and raised her gaze that was so full of horror back up to his face. She had the feeling to faint, she couldn't breathe and her legs seemed to turn to jelly.

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This cannot be, this simply cannot be,... she tried to convince herself of Faramir's innocence, but she knew what she had seen.

"No, Aerilyn...please..." Faramir said desperately when he realized what she was thinking. He wanted to grab her arms again and affirm to her that he had nothing to do with the attack, but as soon as he moved his hands she backed away in panic.

"Stay away!" she screamed and wanted to flee from him, but he quickly got hold of her arm and forced her to stay.

"I swear it was not I," he said, but she didn't listen. Before he even realized that she was moving she kicked him in a for him most unfortunate way and then ran away while he almost collapsed to the ground with a groan of pain.

"Aerilyn, wait!" he yelled after her when he had caught his breath again, but it was too late. She was gone.

Tears streamed down her face while she ran to no particular direction. She just ran. She wanted to get away from everybody. She didn't know what to think or believe. Could it really be coincidence that her attacker and Faramir wore similar clothes? Or could it be that Faramir was involved in some kind of conspiracy against his own brother? Could it even be that both Faramir and Boromir took part in a gruesome plan and the elder brother's abduction had just been a masquerade? She had thought that Boromir truly loved her, but could she be sure? Of course not. She was young and inexperienced. It would be easy for a man like Boromir to fool her with feigned affection. She felt so stupid... How could she be taken in by his false oaths of love in such a strong way that she had been willing to give her body, her chastity to him after so short time of knowing each other? Suddenly she felt disgusted by the memories of the intimate moments she had shared with Boromir the other day, but on the other hand she couldn't deny that she actually had enjoyed it. Probably not as much as he had, but still it had been a beautiful and very special experience.

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No, no, it cannot be like this! she told herself over and over again, but huge doubts were growing inside of her and she couldn't reason them away. More and more questions came to her mind... What had been Faramir's needs in the gardens in the middle of the night if not to chase and kill her? But then again, why couldn't he be in the gardens out of the same reasons she had gone there? After all he was missing his brother and had to cope with great pain about the loss, too...

She thought about millions of possibilities, alternatives and reasons concerning the matters until she felt dizzy. Her pace slowed down, her breathing rushed in and out with loud and short pants, and she felt a sudden, painful sting in her chest. She lifted a hand to the spot that ached so much and felt warm liquid against her palm and fingers. Abruptly she stood still and looked down to her body. Her hand was covered with fresh blood that came from the old wound in her chest. Her dress was soaked with the red fluid that spilled from the injury that had broken open again due to the physical strains of running. Aerilyn pressed a hand to the wound and started walking again, very slowly this time. She knew she had to go to the houses of healing rapidly, but she had lost orientation and didn't know which way to chose. The great despair brought tears to her eyes again and every sob sent unbearable pain through the upper part of her body. She paced through the gardens, only seeing a blur due to the flood of tears, and wandered off until her legs couldn't carry her anymore. She collapsed to the ground exhaustedly and then everything went black.


	15. Amon Hen

*** Amon Hen - Flashback ahead! I took lines from the movie and from the book because I liked both versions. And this is the way I would have preferred it... I hope it's credible and you like it. ***

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"Can you walk?" Aragorn wanted to know and a second later silently cursed himself for having asked when he saw disgrace glimmer in the other man's eyes.

"I'm sorry..." the man from Gondor apologized and dropped his eyelids to hide the mental pain he felt from admitting that he was too weak to move without help.

"It is alright, Boromir. Do not worry," Aragorn said soothingly and raised his head to look how the others were doing. While Aragorn himself had shot the arrow through Boromir's torturer's throat, Ghorid and Atalar had brought death to the few other men, catching them off guard as they had been caught up in watching eagerly how their leader attempted to behead Gondor's future Steward. Legolas had helped at first, shooting twice and killing twice, but then had taken interest in Ralvan's motionless body to find out whether there was a chance of rescue. Now, Legolas stood tall again, his gaze locking with Aragorn's, and he sadly shook his head.

"I guess this is going to hurt," Aragorn said concerned while gently wrapping one of Boromir's arms around his neck.

"It cannot be worse than what I went through the recent days," Boromir whispered back and attempted to smile confidently at his friend.

"Ready?" Aragorn asked and when Boromir nodded he slowly rose on his feet, pulling the other man up with him. He felt Boromir's body tense and he saw him clenching his teeth heavily, fully concentrating on shutting out the pain that echoed through his muscles, veins and bones. Once in a standing position, Aragorn lay one arm around Boromir's waist to make sure he wouldn't slip away again.

"Let's get out of here, and quick," the darkhaired man gave the order to exit the dungeons again.

"Let me help," Ghorid suggested when he came closer, "I assume he is pretty heavy."

"Ghorid..." Boromir panted weakly but pleased and a tiny smile crossed his bruised face when he fully realized he was looking in his cousin's eyes.

"Yes, I'm here, Boromir," Ghorid said softly and grabbed Boromir's free arm to put it around his neck so Boromir's weak body was practically hanging between him and Aragorn, supported from both sides.

"Atalar, come," Legolas urged the younger man impatiently when he saw that he didn't make any attempts to follow the others to the direction of the exit.

"Give me a second," Atalar whispered back and approached the dead body of the abductor's leader with careful and silent steps.

"Atalar! What are you doing?!" Legolas hissed worried and furrowed his brows in confusion. "We need to hurry!"

"We forgot something," he said, turning back to Legolas for a short moment. "Go on, I will catch up."

Legolas stood for a second, torn between the options of staying with Atalar and following Aragorn to the exit of the dungeon. A decision was made quickly when he heard a thud as if something, or rather somebody, had fallen to the ground, and then a sigh of heavy frustration from Aragorn. Legolas shot a last concerned look towards Atalar and then passed the door, leaving Atalar on his own.

He reached the others within seconds and was surprised to see that it was not Boromir who had collapsed to the ground, but his cousin Ghorid. The son of Denethor was still on his feet, more or less, hanging in Aragorn's embrace.

"I knew he would break down sooner or later, but why now?!" Aragorn hissed in a whisper.

Legolas didn't reply but squatted down to have a closer look at the sturdy warrior. Before he could say a word, he heard Atalar dashing out of the room he had left him in.

"_Run!_" Atalar's voice echoed through the long corridor while he slammed the door he had just come through behind his back.

"Don't make so much noise! Do you want them to know we are here?" Aragorn asked angrily, shoving Boromir from his left into his right arm carefully.

"They already know! And now move it!" Atalar replied while he approached them at high speed.

"Oh no..." Aragorn muttered when he heard the footsteps of about half a dozen men in the room they had just gotten out of. The exit was not that far away, but with two heavy men that needed to be carried it was just impossible to reach before their enemies would catch up.

"No, we'll stay and fight!" Aragorn decided and let Boromir slip to the ground quickly but carefully.

"We are only three!" Atalar replied as if he wanted to protest, but he drew his sword while he spoke.

"We don't have a choice," Aragorn sighed and rapidly prepared his bow. Legolas silently did the same, only that he drew two arrows at once.

"They will kill us," Atalar predicted gravely. 

"You are underestimating us," Aragorn said while he focused on the door that led to the room they had found Boromir in. "We have dealt with worse."

"I hope so," Atalar remarked and tightened his grip around his weapon. "I hope so."

The door flew open with huge force and in less than a second the first wave of men lay dead on the ground, each one's head or throat pierced with an arrow. The following men shared the same fate and collapsed to the ground wounded fatally before they even had the chance to reach the small group that had come to rescue their friend. Aragorn shot Atalar a gaze that seemed to say _'See, I told you'_ and then turned back to Boromir again.

"Somehow I fear that there are more to follow," Aragorn said while he squatted down to Gondor's future Steward. When he lay Boromir over his shoulder and rose again he heard him moan in pain, but there was no other way to get him out of here the fast way. While Legolas supported Ghorid who was slowly coming back from his blackout, Atalar still clutched his sword with both hands, ready to switch from fleeing-mode to fighting-mode. He couldn't believe it when they finally reached the exit without further incidents and stumbled out into the daylight again. He stuck his sword back to the scabbard and ran ahead in order to unfasten the reins of their horses they had bound to branches, hidden behind thickets. When the others caught up Atalar swung himself into the saddle of his horse with a swift movement.

"I'm back in a second," he told the others and urged his horse back towards the entrance of the dungeons. Some distance further to the left, there was a poorly made shelter under which about fifteen horses were tied to something that looked like a piece of a fence. He assumed that they had more horses somewhere else, but to hinder them from using these was better than nothing. It was everything he could do for now. The horses got nervous immediately when he rode between them. This was exactly what he had hoped for, and after he cut the reins of the abductor's horses with forceful movements he did his best to scare the animals off to all possible directions.

"He's pretty smart," Aragorn stated with a faint smile when he saw the horses dashing off into the woods and away over the open fields.

"Did you ever doubt it?" Legolas only responded with a small grin while Aragorn shifted Boromir into a position he wouldn't fall of easily. As soon as Atalar was back again they raced off, grateful for every single inch they left between the dungeons and themselves. Everything could have gone well, but after not even an hour Ghorid was haunted by another sudden feeling of weakness and fell from his horse at full speed, crashing to the ground with a terrifying loud thud.

"Stop!" Aragorn yelled unnecessarily and reined his horse simultaneously with Legolas and Atalar. Before he got off his horse he heaved Boromir's limp body over to Atalar and then dismounted and rushed towards the warrior who lay on the forest ground and writhed with pain.

"Ghorid, are you alright?" Aragorn wanted to know and felt a bit stupid for asking because it was more than obvious that he wasn't alright at all. He was bleeding from his nose and his skin was of a white that rivaled the color of the clouds in the sky. But what scared Aragorn the most was the frothy saliva that started to slowly come from the corners of his mouth.

"Can you hear me?" he asked worried and clutched Ghorid's shivering shoulders. The warrior didn't respond but his gaze locked with Aragorn's, showing him that he understood. 

"Ghorid, come. I will help you," Aragorn said and wanted to pull the man back on his feet, but the man from Gondor grabbed Aragorn's forearm frantically and pierced him with a begging glance.

"No!" he panted, obviously being in great pain. "No, Aragorn. I cannot."

"You can! You must!" Aragorn contradicted, squatted down and wrapped one of Ghorid's arms around his neck to pull him up more easily.

"There is no sense in that," Ghorid moaned and used his full weight to prevent Aragorn from lifting him up. "I will not last until we reach Gondor."

"It is only a few days. You will last, you are strong."

"No, the end is coming. I can feel it, Aragorn."

Aragorn let Ghorid down to the ground again as he wasn't any longer able to work against the impressive heaviness of the sturdy warrior and swapped a worried look with Legolas.

"Please," Ghorid suddenly said and forced his body into a kneeling position. He rose his head towards Aragorn, his eyes revealing nothing but pure desperation. "Do not leave me behind like this. The enemy will be here soon and I do not want to face them without being able to fight. Don't let them find me in this weak condition, I beg you. Don't let them soil my glory."

"You refuse to come with us, so what shall we do?" Aragorn asked although he already knew the shattering answer.

"Release me," Ghorid said in a low voice. He blinked hardly when he felt tears welling in his eyes. He would not allow himself to cry now, but it was difficult to control as the huge disappointment about his defeat was overwhelming him.

"No," Aragorn said and rose on his feet.

"I beg you!" Ghorid said and grabbed Aragorn's tunic, his voice louder now. "Do not let me fall into the hands of the enemy! Put an end to my worthless life!"

"Your life is not worthless!" Aragorn hissed, his voice thickening with a huge feeling of unease.

"It is! From now on I am nothing more than a burden you shall not have to carry on your faithful shoulders. I have grown weak. I no longer deserve my name and my title for I insulted my family and its empire with my poor failure. I know I do not deserve a last wish...," Ghorid said and choked hardly, "but please, let me die from your hand."

"I cannot do that. You are asking too much from me," Aragorn said while his mouth started to turn dry.

"Please...," the warrior begged in a low voice and ran the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping off some bloody froth.

"No, Ghorid. I will not cover my sword with the blood of a brave soldier of Gondor who has become such a dear friend to me."

"Very well," Ghorid replied, pulled one of his own swords and offered it to Aragorn with trembling hands. "Then take this one."

Aragorn hesitated and looked to Legolas for one more time. Then he sighed defeated, grabbed the hilt of Ghorid's sword and said: "Go ahead, Legolas and Lord Atalar. I will join you soon."

They left Ghorid and Aragorn alone without losing one more word. Aragorn squatted down again so he could look Ghorid who was kneeling on the dusty ground in the eyes. He held the sword of Boromir's cousin in one hand and put the other one on Ghorid's shoulder, squeezing tightly.

"Listen, Ghorid. You are one of the greatest warriors I have ever seen, you are truly loyal and noble. You did not fail, you helped a huge deal to rescue Boromir. In fact we would not have managed without you. Whole Gondor will be proud of you and cheer you for your courage once you ride through the gates of Minas Tirith."

"I thank you for your soothing words," Ghorid whispered exhaustedly, "but even if you speak the truth, I will not last long enough to pass the gates of Minas Tirith alive ever again."

"But..."

"Aragorn," Ghorid interrupted, "the enemy comes closer with every second that we talk. And Boromir is near to death. You need to hurry and bring him back to Gondor in time. His well-being is of more importance than mine."

"No, the life of every being is important. Yours as well as Boromir's."

"I am not the future Steward of Gondor."

"That does not matter. Still you deserve equal treatment. I want to rescue your life as much as I want to rescue the one of the future Steward."

Their gazes met and they looked at each other for some seconds until Ghorid raised his voice again.

"Do not feel guilty about leaving me behind, Aragorn. Your heart shall not suffer from this. Believe me, you do no wrong. On the contrary, I am grateful and honored to die from your fair hand. What I ask from you is not called killing, my friend, but releasing."

Aragorn opened his mouth to say something, but Ghorid interrupted him again.

"Now do not hesitate any longer for you are in great danger if you stay with me. You heard what I wished for. Please, release me," Ghorid stated with a cracking but yet determined voice and bowed down his head, revealing the weak and vulnerable skin of the backside of his neck to Aragorn.

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Many hours later, when they were sure that they didn't have to fear an attack of any pursuers, the small company stopped to have a rest and supply the horses with water. Aragorn slowly patted the neck of his horse while it drank and stared at the horizon absently. He didn't even notice that Legolas stepped up to him closely, his arm almost brushing the man's back.

"Don't torture yourself so, Aragorn," Legolas said softly after Aragorn had sighed downheartedly. The man's head snapped to the elf, but when Legolas tried to lock gazes with his friend, he turned his face away again to hide the shame in his eyes.

"Ghorid lives, Estel. You didn't kill him," Legolas spoke further. Aragorn shifted his gaze over his horse's back to Ghorid who slept peacefully, slightly curled up and his head resting on his hand.

"But I almost did it," Aragorn admitted in only a whisper. "For a second I hesitated."

"In the end you didn't. That is everything that counts."

Aragorn didn't reply but kept on staring to the horizon for a few more moments. Maybe Legolas was right, yet Aragorn couldn't help feeling miserable.

"Excuse me," he finally said to his friend, "I will go and have a look at Boromir."

"Do as you wish," Legolas murmured and watched with eyes full of concern how Aragorn walked over to Denethor's son who lay on the ground, wrapped in cloaks and blankets. Aragorn was surprised to find Boromir awake and sat down next to him, a faint smile on his face.

"You should take some sleep," he told Boromir and gently stroked a bulge out of the blanket over Boromir's flatly heaving chest.

"I can't sleep," Boromir replied exhaustedly and choked with a lot of effort.

"How come?"

"I'm afraid that if I wake up again this whole rescue was only a dream and I will be back at the cell in that blasted dungeon. And they will come and get me again. And again...and..."

"No, this is no dream," Aragorn assured his fellow. "We came and rescued you, and we will bring you back to your city. Do you want me to pinch you?"

A feeble smile crossed Boromir's bruised and beaten face. Then he turned serious again and gave a tiny sigh, raising his eyes to meet Aragorn's warm gaze.

"Aragorn, I..." Boromir started but then let his voice fade again.

"Yes?"

"I want to say so much but I cannot find appropriate words," Boromir explained weakly.

"What about _Thank you_?" Aragorn suggested with a soft smile.

"I fear a simple _thank you_ won't be enough to express what I feel," Boromir responded and blinked slowly. "You saved my life twice. I owe you more than I could ever repay."

"No, Boromir, you don't owe me."

"Yes, I do. Please, if there is anything I can do for you, let me know and I will be more than happy to do it," Boromir whispered and then closed his eyes in pain when his breathing rasped out in a short, heavy cough. Aragorn watched with great concern, wrinkles of worry on his forehead. It was odd to see Boromir like that, so exhausted and weak. It seemed so wrong.

"There is only one thing I ask from you," Aragorn said silently after Boromir had calmed down again. "I want you to get well soon."

"I will try my best," Boromir responded with a faint smile and slowly opened his eyes again when he felt Aragorn's warm hand around the side of his neck.

"Do you remember what I told you at Amon Hen? Right after you got shot with the arrows?" Aragorn asked, his voice only a whisper and his thumb slowly stroking over Boromir's skin. Apart from Faramir, Aragorn had become the only male who ever had been so close to Boromir.

"Yes," Boromir whispered back and swallowed hard. "Never could I forget the words you told me."

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//

"The horn of Gondor!" Legolas said, frowning with anxiety.

"Boromir!" Aragorn cried out and started to run. He ran faster than he ever had in his life so far, twigs cracking underneath his feet, leaves twirling up from his heavy steps. Soon he felt his heart beating rapidly and almost up to his throat, and he slipped, tripped and almost fell more than once, but something kept him going. The overwhelming fear of losing a comrade so dear to Saruman's army seemed to give him a boost of energy and strength, but it also sent a stinging pain through his heart and guts.

When he arrived at the clearing, he was relieved to find Boromir still on his feet, fighting. Before Aragorn's eyes caught the two arrows that had penetrated his comrades body, he heard the sound Of a bow being drawn and his head snapped to that direction. He discovered one of the ugly beasts aiming at Boromir's body and before his mind fully analyzed the situation, his body took action and leaped at the enemy who attempted to kill one of the fellowship. He managed to prevent the uruk-hai from shooting the third arrow at Boromir and started to fight a desperate battle, knowing that this could possibly be his last. It seemed like an eternity to him, and his opponent seemed to be invulnerable. When he felt his strength fading, his muscles and lungs aching, he summoned up all his might and with one forceful blow chopped the beast's head of it's massive shoulders. It was over. 

For a few moments he stood, panting heavily from the strains of the fight, but when his eyes caught the collapsed Boromir his breathing ceased for a split second and he had the feeling his heart stopped beating.

"No..." Aragorn whispered almost inaudibly while he started moving again. He passed dozens of slain orcs until he finally reached his fellow who lay on the forest ground, most of the upper part of his body leaned against the big roots of a huge tree. Aragorn sank down on his knees next to Boromir, his eyes revealing that he refused to believe he came too late. He parted his lips to say something, but Boromir spoke first.

"They took the little ones," he told Aragorn with a lot of effort.

"Be still," Aragorn ordered softly. But Boromir spoke further, his voice slightly trembling with pain.

"Frodo... Where is Frodo?" he wanted to know.

"I let Frodo go."

"Then you did what I could not," Boromir said, his voice thick with guilt, and grabbed Aragorn's shoulder with a weak hand. "I tried to take the ring from him."

"The ring is beyond our reach now," Aragorn replied soothingly, feeling Boromir's gloved fingers rumpling the ends of his hair with feeble and desperate motions.

"Forgive me, I did not see. I have failed you all," Boromir stated exhaustedly and brought his hand from Aragorn's hair back to his shoulder, once more clutching to the clothes of the elder man.

"No, Boromir," the Ranger denied in a low voice, "You fought bravely. You have kept your honor."

Aragorn moved his gaze from Boromir's pale face, deeper down to his injured abdomen. He lifted a hand to the black arrow that stuck in the other man's shoulder, but Boromir quickly raised his own hand and captured Aragorn's wrist.

"Leave it!" he panted and blinked heavily. "It is over..."

Aragorn brought his free hand up to Boromir's face and carefully cupped his cold, rough cheek while Boromir continued to speak, his voice full of sorrow and despair.

"The world of men will fall, and all will come to darkness. And my city to ruin."

Aragorn shook his head faintly, capturing Boromir's head between both hands now.

"No, it is not over," he said, trying to give hope to Boromir. But the injured man seemed to have given up already.

"Farewell, Aragorn," he whispered. "Go to Minas Tirith and safe my people. I have failed."

"No!" Aragorn protested once again, took Boromir's hand in his and bent down to press a brotherly kiss to his comrade's forehead, tasting the salty flavor of cool sweat against his lips. He didn't even notice that Legolas and Gimli had arrived and stood at some distance, witnessing the scene downheartedly. "No, Boromir, you conquered. Few have gained such victory."

"Thank you, Aragorn," Boromir whispered softly and showed a faint but grateful smile. "Leave me now and go after the little ones. Please go."

"I'm not going to leave without you," Aragorn replied. "You are strong. You will be fine again."

Boromir shook his head weakly and closed his eyes. He had accepted his fate and was ready to welcome death. But Aragorn was not as willing as Boromir to let it end like this.

"Boromir, please... What would your people say if I returned without their Steward?" he tried to lure Boromir away from his surrender. Another exhausted smile crossed Boromir's thin lips, but he didn't open his eyes when he responded.

"I'm not their Steward," he reminded Aragorn.

"But you will be, Boromir. You must. Gondor's people love you. They believe in you. They need you. Do you want to leave them alone?"

Slowly, Boromir blinked his eyes open again and the two men looked at one another for a few silent moments.

"They won't need me any longer, because you will be there from now on," Boromir finally whispered, his eyes expressing sorrow about leaving his people, but also great confidence he felt for Aragorn. "Promise me that you will be the best king Middle-Earth has ever seen and rule Gondor with both a strong hand and a fair heart."

When he saw the intense expression of skepticism in Aragorn's gray eyes revealing the dilemma that raged deep within the him, Boromir added: "You must stop doubting yourself, Aragorn. Stop doubting your leadership."

"And you must stop doubting your survival," Aragorn replied. "Listen now, Boromir. Nobody deserves to rule Gondor but you."

"But you are the heir to Isildur..."

"Yes. I am the heir to the throne of Gondor by birthright, that's true. But I don't deserve to assert this title. What did I do to have the right to claim your position? Who spent his whole life fighting for Gondor, making one sacrifice after another to keep his people safe? It was you, Boromir. Not me. I don't believe Gondor's people would want me to come and usurp your position, especially when you live."

"I won't live, and you are the best man to fill the gap I will leave behind. The people will grow to appreciate and love you."

"Don't do this to your people, Boromir. They need you. Gondor needs you."

When Boromir wanted to deny once more, Aragorn interrupted him quickly.

"No more discussions now, time is pushing."

"One more thing..." Boromir panted, feeling dizziness coming over himself slowly. "If I survive this journey..."

"There is no if, Boromir. You _will _survive."

"_If_ I survive and become the Steward of Gondor, will I ever have the good fortune to see our king return to us?"

When Aragorn didn't respond, Boromir added: "It would be my honor and pleasure to crown you king of Gondor, Aragorn."

"Shhh, Boromir," Aragorn whispered, heavily moved by the other man's words, and softly squeezed the cold hand he held. "Be still now."

Then he raised his head and his gaze found the elf and the dwarf who were observing from discreet distance.

"Legolas! Gimli! Come here and help me, quick!" Aragorn said and then started to carefully pull the arrows from the human body. Boromir was lucky that no vital organs had been hit and lacerated, but still the wounds were deep and caused him a lot of pain. Also, he lost quite some blood and felt himself getting more and more tired and dizzy with every exhausting breath he drew in with lots of effort. His comrades had not even managed to undress Boromir's abdomen in order to expose the injuries when he slipped into unconsciousness.

Later, when he woke up again, his wounds were cleaned and bandaged. Due to the lack of equipment Aragorn and Legolas had been forced to improvise a bit, but their ministrations had proved successful. In fact better than they had hoped for. Aragorn's healing skills were proficient enough while Boromir was tough and vigorous, which made a good combination. They set out very soon again, continuing their journey. With Boromir.

//

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Boromir choked again and then shifted his gaze from Aragorn's gray eyes up to the blue sky. Aragorn watched him silently, not daring to interrupt the other man's thoughts. It was easy to tell that the Son of Gondor was far, far away, thinking or even dreaming about something Aragorn could only guess. Some minutes passed until Boromir suddenly drew in an abrupt intake of air and shifted his gaze back to Aragorn.

"Will you give Faramir a message from me? Please?" he asked in a broken whisper.

"What...no," Aragorn replied in slight confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Faramir..." Boromir whispered, almost dreamily.

"You will reunite," Aragorn stated. "Your brother waits for you. It's only a few days, Boromir. You must hold out."

"Faramir," Boromir repeated as if he hadn't heard what Aragorn had just said. "You must tell him. Tell Faramir I love him."

"I'm sure he knows, Boromir," Aragorn assured the injured man soothingly.

"And tell him I want him to crown you," Boromir added in a shivering whisper so low that Aragorn almost didn't understand it. He wanted to respond, but he couldn't come up with something appropriate. In fact he was so touched by Boromir's words that he couldn't speak just now, anyway.

"I'm so cold," Boromir suddenly murmured and closed his eyes exhaustedly.

"Then I'll keep you warm," Aragorn exclaimed desperately and started to carefully rub Boromir's now weak arms that once had proudly swung a great sword and held a heavy shield.

"Does this feel better?" he wanted to know in a low voice, but there was no response.

"Boromir?" Aragorn asked concerned, his hands coming to a halt. When there still was no reaction he closed his hands around the man's shoulders and shook him gently.

"Boromir!" He felt tears building in his eyes but didn't allow them to fall. He wasn't going to cry and he wasn't going to watch him die. He had rescued his life once already, why shouldn't he be able to do it again? Nothing was lost yet. If they all pulled themselves together and hurried quickly...

"We're setting out!" the command burst out of Aragorn while he rose on his feet abruptly.

"But we just set up the camp and..."

"I said we're setting out!" Aragorn barked, silencing Atalar who had protested. "Boromir is dying and you are concerned that you won't get enough sleep! You can rest as long as you wish once we passed the gates of Minas Tirith!"

"I was only thinking that..."

"On now!" Aragorn interrupted the young man again. "We are only wasting precious time."


	16. reunited

*** Now comes a really big jump in time (does this expression exist??). I just wanted to tell that quite some time has passed by since the events of last chapter, so nobody will get confused or something. I hope you enjoy the chapter! ***

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It had been only two days since Aerilyn had regained consciousness, but already she was bored to death. Only hours after waking up she had been transferred from the houses of healing to her bedchamber because her father wanted her as close as possible to his own rooms, and she hadn't gone anywhere else since. She wasn't allowed to go anywhere but had to stay here, locked up and with one of her father's primary guards watching her. Denethor had offered to put some of his own guards at Aerilyn's disposal to make sure she was protected in the best possibe way, but Ribensis had rejected. Not that he blamed Denethor or his sons for what had happened to his daughter, but as long as he didn't know what exactly was going on he didn't trust anyone but his own personal guard who enjoyed the Steward's full confidence for ages already.

Aerilyn had not told her father, or anyone else about her assumption that it had been Faramir who had tried to kill her the other day. Before she had the chance to do so, she had learned that it actually was Faramir who had saved her. Her father had told her that Faramir had found her in the gardens, unconscious and bleeding, and that he had carried her to the houses of healing. It made no sense to her that he would do so if he had wanted to take her life. It would have been the perfect chance for him, or anyone else, to kill her as she lay on the ground, helpless and injured. But he had rescued her instead and that had to mean that she had been terribly wrong about him when she had accused him of being the attacker. The more she thought about it, the surer she was that he was innocent on this matter, and she was ashamed that she had thought different once. Unfortunately there was no way of contacting Faramir and apologizing to him, or thanking him for rescuing her, because nobody was allowed to pay her a visit. She felt like a prisoner and her room seemed to shrink with every hour. Slowly, it was driving her mad. She needed to distract herself a bit, but there were very few options of what she could do. Her gaze wandered across the room and she watched her guard polishing one of his weapons.

"How is your wife, Torgen?" she asked and crossed the room to let herself sink onto her bed. The man's head snapped up, he was obviously surprised that she was trying to start a conversation with him.

"Fine, thank you," he said and then continued with his dull occupation. 

"And your children? How are your children?" Aerilyn asked, rolled onto her belly and rested her chin on her arms that she crossed in front of her.

"Fine," Torgen answered.

"I'm sure they all miss you a great deal," she said with a sigh.

"I miss them too," the sturdy guard admitted, causing Aerilyn to smile faintly. She always had liked Torgen, although she had been rather scared of him when she had been a little girl. She was glad it was him her father had chosen to accompany her twenty-four hours a day, and not one of the impolite, rough guards. Torgen might not be very talkative and entertaining, but at least he was well-mannered and friendly.

"You will go back home soon again," Aerilyn said, not yet knowing how much truth lay in her words. 

Only minutes later, they heard somebody knocking on the door and Aerilyn knew immediately that it was her father, just from his style of knocking. Torgen rose from his chair, unlocked the door and opened it only a crack to look who it was, his hand already at the hilt of his sword. When he saw that it was indeed Aerilyn's father he pulled the door open and let his Steward pass. Aerilyn sat up on her bed wonderingly when she discovered that he was followed by several servants who, as soon as they had entered the room, started to gather her belongings.

"Father... What does this mean?" she asked in confusion while she observed one of the servants getting her dresses out of the wardrobe and folding them carefully.

"We will leave Gondor. Till our departure you will stay here together with Torgen," Ribensis informed her and stepped closer to the bed his daughter was sitting on. She raised her head and stared at him, thunderstruck.

"We will leave? When?" she asked, her dark brows furrowed in disbelief.

"As soon as possible, when everything is packed."

"But what about Atalar?!" Aerilyn asked terrified and rose on her feet abruptly. "We cannot leave without him!"

"But we cannot wait for him, either. I am not willing to stay at a country in which my daughter's life is threatened. Two assaults in a row are enough for my taste, I won't wait for a third and maybe fatal one. Besides, we don't know whether or not Atalar is still alive and will ever return. As soon as we are home again I will send out scouts who will find him, dead or alive. We will leave Minas Tirith tomorrow morning, and I am not willing to have any discussions about it."

"But the weather conditions are really bad for travelling such a long way! There's a thunderstorm about to come, it's already pouring outside!" Aerilyn tried to convince her father of waiting at least two or maybe three days until they departed.

"Expect us to leave at dawn," her father said, not a tiny bit impressed by her arguments. 

"And what about the wedding?" Aerilyn asked, her voice hardly above a whisper. There was only one word her father needed to answer her question, but it made her heart shatter to thousands of pieces.

"Cancelled."

.

.

.

She sat on her windowsill like the other day before her emotional outburst at dinner, only the sun wasn't shining, caressing and warming her skin. It was dark outside although it was early afternoon, heavy clouds had gathered in the gray sky and it was pouring as if the rain wanted to wash away the city. At least the weather matched her mood. She couldn't stand bright sunshine and singing birds just now, anyway. She drew her legs nearer to her body, lay her chin on her knees and sighed downheartedly. 

"Lady Aerilyn?" a deep, male voice came from across the room, sounding slightly worried.

"I'm fine, Torgen," she murmured, not making the effort to turn her head so she could face her guard. Instead, she let her gaze drop down to the street that lay quite some feet underneath her window and felt sorry for the second guard who stood there in the rain. He was soaked all over and although it was dark she could see that he was freezing. With another sigh she shifted her gaze back to direction the company had to come from when they returned again. That is, if they returned...

She sat like this for hours, not moving at all. A servant brought food and drinks, but she refused to eat anything and just kept on staring at the muddy, wet street, listening to the rain and thunder while Torgen had his meal and watched her with huge concern.

"Are you sure you don't want to eat?" he asked finally.

"Yes," she replied, and the conversation was finished again.

As time passed by, she became more and more tired and her eyelids fell shut every now and then. Torgen must have noticed that she was almost sleeping and not far from falling from the windowsill as he suddenly rose and approached her to carry her to the bed. His heavy footsteps made her open her eyes again, and then she saw it...

Within a split second she was wide awake again, straightened with a gasp and lay her hand flatly against the window, holding her breath and narrowing her eyes. The sight was more than bad, but there was no doubt about it. There were a few horses approaching, a small group of riders. They were back. 

She tried to make out who exactly was straddling which horse, who was sitting upright and who just hung limply in another one's arms, and who had not returned at all... But it was just impossible from where she was looking. Aerilyn jumped from the windowsill and stormed towards the door in order to run after the company, but Torgen moved in front of her quickly, causing her to bump into him.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked and closed a large hand around her upper arm. His grip was gentle, but nevertheless rather firm.

"The company just arrived! Please, I need to go and see them!" Aerilyn begged, raising her head so she could look the guard who was towering over her in the eyes. He sighed and his eyes expressed that he understood her feelings, but then he shook his head.

"Your father wants you to stay here in your chambers. I am sorry, but I have my orders."

"Please, Torgen!" she said desperately and grabbed his strong forearm. "I only want to know whether Atalar is back! I need to know whether my brother lives! Please!"

He looked down to her again and hesitated for a second before he said: "Alright, but I will come with you."

"Thank you," she said and attempted to shove him aside to open the door.

"Don't you want to get your cape? It's storming outside," the sturdy guard pointed out.

"No, let's just go," she replied determinedly. She wouldn't have cared if she had been barefoot and only dressed in undergarments, she just wanted to meet the people she had waited for so long.  


  
She pushed the heavy doors open and left the heated building, entering the coldness of the thunderstorm outside. Heavy rain lashed in her face and in only few seconds her clothes were soaked, but the last thing she wanted to do was withdraw back to her comfortable chambers. The company was gone, of course. She had to get to the houses of healing as quickly as possible, and so she started to run again although the ground was very muddy and slippery. Torgen was at her heels all the time, and if she hadn't been fully concentrated on finding the people who had returned, she would have sensed how tense he was.

They arrived at the houses of healing quite quickly and discovered that the company was still outside in the rain. The first thing Aerilyn's eyes caught was a man with dark hair and dark clothes who was unfamiliar to her. He was the only one who still straddled a horse and he just lifted the limp body of another man down into the arms of Faramir who must have arrived here before she had. Aerilyn thought her heart would stop beating when she realized that it had to be the body of Boromir. Due to the bad weather conditions she couldn't see any details like facial expressions or hear what Faramir and the dark man were saying, but it was enough to see Boromir's slackened body being carried into the houses of healing by his brother and another man who had long, blond hair and looked rather young. She was so caught up in watching the whole scene that she didn't even notice how Torgen wrapped his own cloak around her shivering shoulders. 

As soon as Aerilyn overcame her paralysis of shock she wanted to run after them, but suddenly she heard somebody calling out her name and turned to the direction of the familiar voice. A small whimper escaped her throat when she saw her brother coming towards her and the overwhelming relief about his wellbeing made her forget about Boromir for a second. She threw herself into Atalar's open arms and clung to him tightly while tears started to burst from her eyes, merging with the rain that ran down her face. He held her so close that she found it hard to breathe properly, but she wouldn't want to have it another way. 

"I am so glad that you live, I thought you were dead," she sobbed and pressed her face against his trembling body.

"I thought you were dead too," he replied and she heard that he was crying as well. His hands closed tightly around her upper arms and he made her back away a bit so they could look one another in the eyes. They both were drenched, their black hair glued to their skin that was freezing cold already, but they didn't even notice they were both shivering.

"I thought you were dead too," he repeated in only a whisper and gave her a quick, brotherly kiss on the mouth. Then he drew her close again and embraced her small, slender body tightly, burying his face in her wet hair.

"What about Boromir? Is he fine?" Aerilyn suddenly asked against Atalar's chest, her hands clutched to his dirty, soaked and partly ripped clothes. When Atalar didn't reply she freed herself from his firm hug to look at his eyes.

"Atalar... What about Boromir?" she repeated, feeling more tears welling in her eyes.

"We brought him back, but it looks bad for him," Atalar told her calmly, feeling his own heart crack from the desperate expression on his sister's face.

"I have to see him," she said and drew away from him to rush towards the houses of healing. Torgen, who had waited silently for the siblings to disconnect from each other again, wanted to run after her, but Atalar grabbed him firmly, a pleading for letting his sister go. Torgen could have easily broken free from the young man's hand, but he came to a halt and gazed at Atalar questioningly.

"Give her the chance to see him. Please, Torgen... I will take full responsibility of this, just in case my father finds out. Give Aerilyn the chance to bid him farewell," Atalar said, his hand still clutching the sturdy guard's sleeve. He wanted his sister to have the opportunity he unfortunately hadn't had. He hadn't managed to give Inunyen support while she was dying a painful death, he hadn't managed to tell her all the things he had wanted her to know, and now she was dead and the opportunity was gone. Forever. He didn't want the same to happen to Aerilyn, for he knew how much it hurt to not have been able to say goodbye to the somebody one loved. 

Inside of the houses of healing was a state of sheer excitement, it was crowded with people who all wanted to know in which condition their future Steward was, whether he was dead or alive, and large numbers of nurses and healers rushed up and down the corridors and in and out of one room. Aerilyn felt a knot forming in her stomach when she started to push herself a way towards that particular room, until somebody got hold of her arm when she had almost reached the door that swung open and close again and again.

"Aerilyn, what are you doing here? I thought you were to stay in your chambers?" a male voice demanded to know. Aerilyn looked up and met the worried gaze of Faramir. She knew she owed him an apology, but at the moment there were other things that occupied her mind.

"I need to see him," she told him, close to tears.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he replied, only feeding her anxiety.

"Please..." she whispered, trying hard not to cry, but his hand didn't give way.

"Lord Faramir!" a male voice suddenly yelled from somewhere further back. "We need to get all the people out!"

Aerilyn felt Faramir's grip losing some strength when he was distracted by one of his father's guards and took the chance. She freed herself with one abrupt, forceful movement and slipped past some more curious people who tried to snatch a glimpse of Denethor's eldest son. She entered the room, almost running over a nurse who tried to push her back again, but her fear and worry set free unknown strength inside of her and she easily escaped the nurse's hands. 

There were quite some people in this room, but she had eyes for Boromir only. The second her eyes caught him she came to an abrupt halt, afraid of what she might discover when she approached and looked closer. She felt her legs getting shaky and her heart started to race, but she had to see. She had to know. She stepped closer, slowly starting to feel dizzy, and when one of the nurses turned away to put down a piece of cloth that was soaked with blood and get a fresh one instead, she had almost full view of him, how he lay there, bleeding, bruised, lifeless. 

Aerilyn's face turned white as snow and she gasped heavily, her eyes widened in horror. Then she turned away from the horrifying sight of Boromir's tortured body and almost bumped into somebody who had just moved close behind her to guide her out of the room again. She didn't even look up to see who he was, but sank against the broad chest she was facing while massive sobs made her whole body shake. Aragorn stiffened a bit at first, but then quickly closed his arms around her carefully to give her some comfort. Suddenly her legs gave in and almost made her slip from his soft embrace. Aragorn tightened his hug just in time to keep her collapsing body from falling. He carefully lowered her onto the ground, supporting her head with his large hand.

"What happened?" Atalar asked, who had just fought his way through the masses of people to both join his sister, but also to get his own wounds cared for. Compared to the ones Boromir suffered his were rather harmless, but still they hurt and needed to be cleaned.

"She passed out, I think," Aragorn said while Atalar got down on his knees and bent over his sister.

"Lyn, can you hear me?" he asked worried and cradled her face in his palms gently.

"Is he dead?" she asked in a whisper, not opening her eyes.

"No," Aragorn said soothingly, "Boromir is only unconscious. I am sure you can talk to him tomorrow." 

"Please tell me the truth," she begged desperately and blinked her eyes open in order to look at Aragorn with the most sorrowful expression he had ever seen in a human's eyes.

"This is the truth, Lady Aerilyn. Boromir is not dead."

"Thank you," she whispered and closed her eyes again. Then she heard the harsh voices of guards, and also a few nurses, who ordered the healthy people to leave the building immediately, while the injured and sick ones were brought back to their own rooms. Atalar lifted her up on his arms to carry her into another room where he lay her down on the bed that was reserved for the injured, but at the moment not occupied.

"I will get you dry clothes, then you can stay here and wait for Boromir to wake up again," he told her and caressed her moist and cold face while she nodded gratefully. When he came back she had fallen into light and troubled sleep.

.

.

.

"Lord Faramir, you should go back to your chambers and have a rest," a brunette nurse said softly when she discovered him still sitting on one of the benches on the now empty corridor. Hours had passed by since the company's arrival and there were still no news about Boromir's condition.

"No, I will stay. I want to be here when my brother wakes up."

"I will get you a blanket."

"No, but thank you," Faramir replied and then watched the nurse vanishing in the room Boromir was in. The torturing silence drove him mad and it seemed like an eternity until it was broken by low noises of anguish that went right through Faramir. He couldn't just sit and listen to the heartrending whimpers, but he didn't know what to do instead either. Faramir paced up and down in front of the door that separated him from Boromir who obviously went through unbearable pain this very moment. Faramir knew his brother more than well, he knew that he would try at all costs to suppress any evidence of his pain and never would show his suffering openly if he could avoid it. Faramir didn't dare imagine what intense agony it needed to actually make Boromir wail and weep although surrounded by people. It ripped his heart to pieces to hear his brother like that, to hear his usually strong and steady voice filling the air with low sobs and weak cries. At least those sounds proved that Boromir was alive, but although Faramir was glad about this circumstance he felt more and more miserable with every single feeble noise that came from his brother's throat, disturbing the silence of the night. 

"Faramir...," a low, female voice suddenly came from behind him and he turned around abruptly, discovering Aerilyn in the doorway of another room. He almost had to smile when he noticed that she was clad in garments that were usually for the sick and injured to wear and also were far too big for her slender and small frame. Before he could reply anything, a low but heartrending cry echoed through the corridor, followed by a few erratic sobs and groans that slowly ceased again. Aerilyn lifted a hand to her face to cover her mouth and tried hard to fight tears back, but when Faramir quickly came closer and embraced her soothingly she let them break free and cried against his chest, her hands clinging to his shirt.

Some moments later they waited on the bench together, Faramir sitting in his earlier position while Aerilyn lay on her side, legs curled up to her body and her head resting on Faramir's lap. He held her hand and felt her kneading his fingers absently, until she seemed to have fallen asleep again. He didn't know how long they sat like this, but finally his exhaustion overwhelmed him and he couldn't do anything anymore to prevent himself from entering the land of dreams. 

.

.

.

Boromir opened his eyes very slowly and the first sound he released was a groan of pain. He felt as if every single bone in his body had been broken and most of his skin was burning like fire, while his hands were cold as ice. The throbbing pain in his head was so bad that he felt sick from it and could hardly move or see. He blinked a few times with a lot of effort when he felt somebody touch his forearm. Slowly, he managed to see past the blur, and he couldn't believe what he saw. His mind was obviously playing a trick on him, but she seemed so real...

"Aerilyn?" Boromir whispered in disbelief, his gaze shifting over her face.

"Yes, it's me," she whispered back and clutched his hand.

"But why...how... Am I dead?" he asked in confusion, his voice hoarse and weak. A smile spread on her face and she softly shook her head.

"No, you are at home. In Minas Tirith."

"Minas Tirith?" Boromir echoed weakly, furrowing his brows.

"Yes. In the houses of healing," Aerilyn explained slowly, emphasizing every word as if she was talking to a little child.

"But how come you are here?" he asked almost inaudibly and choked with great efforts.

"Well, I live here too since I am going to be your wife," she said with a smile.

"No, I mean... You are not dead?"

"I am not dead," she said and carefully squeezed his hand, "And I am so happy that you aren't either."

"Aerilyn," Boromir whispered again and wanted to raise a hand to stroke her cheek, but he couldn't gather enough strength to do so. He gave a frustrated sigh and then looked her in the eyes again. "I am so sorry for everything."

"It was not your fault, and you suffered a lot more than I did," she replied, lifted his hand and lay her head against it, nestling her face to his palm.

"Forgive me, I did not notice that we weren't alone," he told her, watching her caressing the back of his hand while her cheek pressed against his palm.

"I didn't notice either," she said.

"I should have noticed. I should have protected you." 

"It is not your fault," she repeated in a whisper, drew her head back and placed a kiss in his palm. Then she took his hand in hers again, gently continuing to caress the back of his hand with her fingertips. They looked one another in the eyes for a few silent moments, savoring the state of being close to each other again. 

"How is Faramir?" Boromir suddenly wanted to know, his voice hardly above a rasping whisper.

"He is well. He sleeps just the room next door," Aerilyn told him. When she saw his eyes lighten up for a split second, she continued: "Faramir sat by your side for hours and hours, waiting for you to wake up. He didn't want to leave before you opened your eyes, although he hardly could keep his eyes open himself because he was so tired. I almost had to beat him to bed."

"Really?" Boromir asked and an exhausted smile crossed his bruised face.

"Yes, Faramir loves you above all and everything," Aerilyn assured him. "Do you want me to go and get him?"

"No," Boromir said and swallowed hard. "Let him sleep."

"He will come to see you as soon as he wakes up again," Aerilyn said with a smile that quickly faded again when Boromir gave no reaction. His eyes had fallen closed again and the weak grip of his fingers had lost its exhausted strength entirely.

"Boromir?" she asked fearful and bent further down to hear whether he was breathing. He was, but very slowly and flatly.

"Don't leave me, Boromir," she begged desperately and turned her head to kiss him. Tears gathered in her eyes when she felt his cold, motionless lips underneath hers. Of course he was too weak to return the kiss. It almost felt like kissing a corpse.

"Please, don't..." she whispered and stroked his cheek. "I love you. Don't leave me alone."

After a short, tensed pause she added in a very low voice: "We need you."

Slowly, Boromir blinked his eyes open a tiny bit and looked at Aerilyn's wet and flushed face, her words keeping him from slipping into unconsciousness.

"We?" he repeated wonderingly, in a more than low voice and with a lot of effort.

Aerilyn nodded weakly while more tears fell from her bloodshot eyes, and she swallowed hard before she told him of the suspicion that had been growing inside of her mind for a few days now.

"I think I am expecting your child."


	17. visiting hours

Faramir rushed down the corridor and cut the way of a nurse who was carrying a tray just in time to prevent her from entering Boromir's room.

"Good morning," he greeted her a bit out of breath. "Is this for my brother?"

"Good morning, Lord Faramir," she replied politely, but with a frown on her forehead. "Yes, Lord Boromir needs to eat, he is very weak."

"I will care for this matter, you can go and busy yourself with other patients," Faramir explained and took the tray out of her hands without waiting for a reply.

"As you wish," she said a bit startled and watched him vanishing in the room she originally had aimed to go to.

"Did you sleep well?" Faramir asked, once inside the light room, and sat down on the chair that stood right next to the bed Boromir was lying in. The older man only shook his head faintly and looked at his brother with watery eyes. A small, dispirited sigh escaped Faramir's throat when he saw that Boromir's eyes were absolutely lacking the passionate fire his gaze had used to bear. Not the slightest sparkle lightened up the light green. Faramir found that Boromir's eyes never had been so dull and empty before.

"I hope you are hungry," he added and tried his best to put some ease in his voice to fight the depressing atmosphere that dominated the room. Boromir wanted to shake his head once more, but then realized that he was starving indeed. He just hadn't eaten anything for such a long time that he had simply forgotten how hungry he actually was. He watched Faramir putting the tray down to the ground and then bending over him, softly running his hands around his brother's abdomen.

"You need to sit up a bit," he explained and very carefully helped Boromir to move. Despite the tender heedfulness Faramir brought forth to carefully shift his elder brother to a better position he caused him great pains. Boromir didn't protest, nor made he a single noise of anguish, but Faramir knew him well enough to feel that he was fighting back groans of pain with huge efforts.

"I'm sorry," Faramir murmured once Boromir was more or less sitting, supported by several cushions his back leaned against. Boromir didn't reply with words but looked at his brother with an expression in his eyes that told Faramir there was no reason to apologize. No more words were spoken when Faramir started to supply his harmed sibling with the broth he had taken from the nurse a few minutes ago. He felt that Boromir's hunger was huge, but the pain every gulp caused him reined in his greed and destroyed his appetite. Boromir's movements turned slower with every second until he lay back his head in resignation and kept his lips closed, refusing to let the spoon Faramir was holding enter his mouth.

"You can't seriously say that you had enough," Faramir stated when he looked down to the tureen that was still very full with the not bad smelling liquid.

"It hurts," Boromir whispered. The first time he had spoken today. His voice was hoarse and feeble, the words coming out in a weak rasp.

"I know," Faramir responded almost as low as Boromir and lay a hand on his brother's forearm to give him some comfort by physical contact. "I know, Boromir. But you need to eat something. Please."

He gave his brother's forearm a loving squeeze, feeling the weakened muscles twitching underneath his fingers, and then maneuvered the full spoon in front of Boromir's face.

"Come on, open your mouth before it turns cold again," Faramir ordered softly with a faint smile. Boromir took a deep breath, probably to protest again, but Faramir cut him off before he could respond.

"Open, Boromir," he repeated, a bit more determined this time.

"Aye, sir," Boromir replied and had to smile. The whole situation was so surreal to him that he almost had to laugh, but he didn't dare because he was afraid of the pain it would cause him.

"I bet you never would have imagined to get fed by me one day, right?" Faramir asked while he carefully directed the full spoon into his brother's mouth, his smile growing wider.

"Well," Boromir said in a low voice after swallowing down with a lot of effort and a lot of pain, "You do nothing to me I haven't done to you before."

"True," Faramir agreed, although he of course didn't have any memories of Boromir occasionally feeding him when he had been a baby.

"Another one?" he asked after a short moment of silence. Boromir only shook his head weakly, his eyes closed.

"Please, you need to regain some energy. Only one more..."

"No, Faramir. I can't."

"But..."

"No," Boromir interrupted exhaustedly, "It's not only because of the pain. I feel sick already."

"Sick? Do you want me to get a nurse?" Faramir asked worried. Boromir shook his head.

"It's because I haven't eaten anything for so long. My stomach has to get used to food again very slowly, I guess."

"Oh," Faramir said and put the tureen down. "Well, I don't want you to heave everything up again. At least not as long as I sit within range of fire, so to speak."

Boromir couldn't suppress a chuckle and lifted a hand to his chest when a sharp pain exploded there.

"I'll warn you in time, I promise," he replied, causing a grin to cross Faramir's face. They smiled at each other for some silent moments, the only sound that was to be heard being the flat and laborious breathing of Boromir. Suddenly the elder brother's smile faded away again and gave way for a sad and very serious facial expression that for some reason made Faramir's heart tense painfully.

"I need to talk to you," Boromir said, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet Faramir was able to hear the great sorrow and concern that his brother's tone bore.

"Faramir, what I am going to tell you shall never leave this room," he continued while Faramir moved his chair even closer to the bed. "I am serious about this, so can I confide in you? Will your mouth be sealed?"

"You know you can trust me. No matter what."

"Yes, I know," Boromir said and smiled faintly.

"So what is it that is weighing on your heart so heavily?" Faramir asked, watching the expression of unease in his brother's eyes with great anxiety.

"You know that it is possible that I will die from my injuries," Boromir started. Faramir breathed in heavily to speak out protesting words, but his elder brother raised a hand and clutched his shoulder to silence him.

"It is the truth, you have to face it. And I wish to talk to you about what will be to come if I die. We both know what will happen if I pass away. My passing won't change the alliance between Steward Ribensis and our father, and you know what that means."

"No, he cannot ask that from me," Faramir replied in a low voice, feeling a strong déjà-vu. He hadn't got the heart to tell Boromir that Denethor actually had already tried to bond Aerilyn to him because he had been convinced that his firstborn son was dead.

"He will, Faramir, no matter whether you like it or not. And you will obey. You will do what I should have done, you will follow in my footsteps. I believe in you, little brother. You will be a great steward. The best one Gondor has ever seen, I am certain of that. You will crown Aragorn king of Gondor, he will keep you as his Steward. And you will be a good husband to Aerilyn, will you not?"

"That won't be necessary, because you will live," Faramir said a bit nervously and brushed his own hand over his brother's that was still resting on his shoulder.

"Maybe. But maybe not," Boromir said. "And now listen. I need to tell you something and also ask you a great favor."

"I will do anything you ask for," Faramir responded. "Anything."

"Good," Boromir replied, his voice losing strength constantly. "I want you to make a pledge. Promise me that you will treat Aerilyn fair and good, for she is the woman I carry in the heart of my hearts. I believe she will be a little difficult at the beginning of your marriage, but she will learn to treasure your qualities. You must be patient with her."

"Boromir, don't you think Aerilyn should marry a man she truly loves? I am sure the alliance between Gondor and Katalla will maintain, even without a bond in blood. Aerilyn has gone through so much already, it just wouldn't be fair to force her to marry me. She deserves to choose a husband by herself."

"There is something else you need to know," Boromir whispered exhaustedly and choked hardly. "There is a reason why I want you to be with her. Aerilyn bears my child."

Surprise flickered through Faramir's eyes and he opened his mouth to say something, but Boromir's hand quickly slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck, and before Faramir could bring out a word his head was drawn down very close to Boromir's face.

"Yes, this child was conceived before we could be bonded officially, but I will not apologize for this, Faramir. I will not apologize for creating a life that is the result of an act of pure and genuine love between two people who thought they would be declared husband and wife only hours later. This child is the fruit of our affection for each other and there is nothing I would rather do than raise and educate my son or daughter with all dedication a loving father could possibly develop for his offspring. But perhaps I will not be able to do so, perhaps I will be dead before it even shows that Aerilyn is expecting. So if I die... Please marry Aerilyn. I beg you, Faramir, don't tell anyone that this child was fathered by me and raise it as though it was your own. I don't want her to be abandoned because she is pregnant with an illegitimate child. And by no means would I want her to secretly abort this baby. Do you understand now why I want you to marry her in case of my passing? I know I'm demanding much from you. I'm asking you to renounce the possibility of marrying a woman you truly love, and believe me, I loathe myself for doing this to you. Aerilyn is not the only one who would deserve to bond with somebody she chose herself, the very same goes for you, Faramir. I thought about the matter the whole night, but I couldn't come up with a better solution. There is no other way."

Faramir didn't reply immediately as he had to digest the rather striking news first. His mouth had turned totally dry and he felt his heart pounding heavily in his aching chest.

"Will you do that, my brother?" Boromir asked in despair. "Will you treat my beloved and my child well, even if this could mean that your heir will be of my blood?"

"Yes, you shall not worry," Faramir finally said with mixed feelings. "The blood that flows through your veins is the same that goes through mine. I will raise and love your child with the same dedication you would have brought forth. I swear I never will dishonor Aerilyn, nor the child you gave to her."

"Thank you, Faramir," Boromir whispered, pulled him closer and brushed a weak kiss on Faramir's cheek, "I thank you for being the best brother and friend I could possibly ask for. You are truly a great honor for this family."

"You are the one father is proud of," Faramir replied and there was no envy in his voice, just brotherly love.

"And I am proud of you," Boromir said faintly and softly ruffled Faramir's hair with a weak hand. "No words could ever express my gratitude towards you. I appreciate your sacrifice very much. I love you, Faramir. I always did."

Faramir gave a faint, sad smile, not being able to reply anything because he was choked with sorrow and despair about Boromir's condition, and his brother's words were moving him deeply. It hurt him to see how much this conversation was torturing his big brother. It was more than difficult for Boromir to talk about casting his love into the arms of another man, even if this man was his beloved brother.

"And now leave me alone please, I am exhausted from speaking so much," Boromir finally pleaded and closed his eyelids that had turned ever so heavy during their conversation. "Remember, not a word to anybody," he added almost half asleep.

"Yes, do not worry. Get well soon, Boromir," Faramir said and gently ran a hand through his brother's hair. "I love you, too."

.

.

.

Boromir was out of danger of dying surprisingly soon, much to both brother's relief, but they never again talked about the words they had exchanged not long ago. Nevertheless Boromir thought about that particular conversation pretty often and it filled him with bliss and gratefulness that fate had rewarded him with a brother so loving and reliable.

"I hope you will be fine again very soon, my son," Denethor said, pulling Boromir out of his reflections about Faramir, and looked down on him with concern in his eyes. Boromir didn't allow himself to think that the anxiety in his father's eyes was caused by parental love. He knew what it was his father was so concerned about, even before Denethor spoke it out loud only seconds later.

"You need to recover instantly, Boromir. You know that you have to lead our army to war, and as a matter of fact as quickly as possible."

"Yes, I know," Boromir responded exhaustedly and blinked slowly, shifting his gaze from his father's harsh face to the nearby window.

"Don't forget how important you are for our victory. Our soldiers would lack confidence if you didn't battle by their sides. They need you. And so does Gondor."

Boromir only nodded, watching the blue sky and the blossoming trees he could see from where he was resting. It was always the same. Always had his father told him how important he was to Gondor and her people. Never had he lost a word about the importance of Boromir's wellbeing towards Denethor himself, the importance a son should have for his father. Once more Boromir had to admit that he missed his mother, even after thirty years that had passed by since her death. 

Especially in moments like these he wished she would still live, sit down on the corner of his bed and smile down at him, just the way she had done when he had pushed it too far with playing outside and had injured himself when he was a little boy. Never had she punished or scolded him, probably because Denethor had disciplined him more than enough. Finduilas had been the kindest and gentlest woman he had known and often he had wondered how she could bear a life at Denethor's side who was so very different in nature. Never had he seen or heard her complain. On the contrary, often she had told him that she was the luckiest woman on Middle-Earth because Denethor had given her the most adorable children a mother could possibly wish to call her own. 

She had been the only person, apart from Faramir, in whose presence Boromir didn't have to be the strong and brave leader, warrior and heir to the stewardship to be loved. The day she had died had been the most horrible one in his entire life, and he had cried and mourned for a long, long time. The only positive thing that had resulted from Finduilas' death was that it had welded Faramir and Boromir together even tighter and made the two brothers inseparable for eternity. The love his brother yielded for him was the purest and most genuine affection Boromir had ever been presented with since their dear mother's death, and his heart returned the same feelings towards Faramir. 

Maybe Aerilyn carried him in her heart because of similar reasons Faramir did. Maybe she loved him not only for his status, power and strength, but for what was left once one looked beyond the rough surface of the indestructible soldier. He didn't know for sure, he had never been good at guessing women's thoughts, but he allowed himself to dream and hope.

"I want the wedding to take place in two days," Denethor suddenly said as if he had read Boromir's mind.

"So soon?" Boromir replied.

"If you were in a better condition I'd have everything arranged for today, but I fear that would be too much for you. Nevertheless we need to hurry with this. In two days you will take Lady Aerilyn as your wife and the next day set out for battle."

"The next day?" Boromir asked and shifted in his bed with unease, his gaze shooting back to his father's face. "But I won't be able to fight properly after such few days of recovery!"

"You don't need to fight properly!" his father barked back impatiently. "All you need to do is get in your armor and keep balance on your horse! Don't fight at the front, just be there in the background and give the soldiers confidence, Boromir! This is definitely not asking too much of you!"

"But still... I need some time to plan the campaign, study maps and discuss the tactics with the sergeants."

"That are issues you can care for while you are still confined to bed due to your injuries."

"I'm afraid I will need more time to prepare everything thoroughly..."

"Time is luxury we cannot afford at this point, Boromir! We will have to act quickly and strike back if we don't want to look like fools but maintain the respect and reputation we hold!"

Boromir wanted to respond, but his father quickly raised his voice again, cutting his son short before he even had the chance to begin a sentence.

"Rest now. You better have a good sleep this night for tomorrow I will supply you with everything you'll need for preparing the warfare. I expect you to work as efficiently as always."

"I will do what I can," Boromir replied, holding the hard stare of his father.

"I hope that will be enough," Denethor responded and then left the room without losing one more word. 

Outsides, he almost bumped into Atalar who just came around one of the many corners of the long corridors at rather high speed.

"My apologies, Steward Denethor, I didn't see you coming," Atalar said immediately, although he hadn't even touched Boromir's father.

"There was no harm done," Denethor replied. "Do you feel unwell?"

"Why, no, I... I am fine," Atalar stuttered, a bit confused about the uncommon interest the Steward of Gondor had for his wellbeing.

"Then what are your needs in the houses of healing?"

"Oh, I wanted to spend your son a visit," Atalar said and blushed slightly under the severe gaze of Denethor. He silently cursed his bad timing and hoped that he wouldn't bump into somebody else he knew. He didn't want everybody to know about his intention to visit Boromir.

"I see," the old man only said, but the tone in his voice made clear that he wasn't really pleased with what Atalar had said.

"He isn't asleep, is he? I don't want to disturb his recovery," the young man quickly added.

"No, Boromir is awake. But still you better make your visit a brief one. Understood?"

Atalar felt the urge to tell the Steward that he wasn't willing to obey his orders and that he would visit whoever he wanted, as long as he wanted, but when he remembered how his father had reprimanded him after he had been insulting towards Denethor shortly before they had set out for the search he bit his lower lip and only nodded.

"Good day to you, Lord Atalar," Denethor said and left with quick steps.

"Thanks, the same to you," Atalar murmured although Denethor was out of hearing already. He waited a few minutes before he knocked on Boromir's door, he didn't want to come face-to-face with him with blushed cheeks. 

"Come in," a tired voice stated. Atalar opened the door slowly and poked his head in.

"I hope I'm not disturbing," he said carefully.

"Lord Atalar," Boromir said, obviously quite surprised. "No, no, please come in."

Atalar did as Boromir had told him and closed the door behind his back silently.

"How are you?" he asked and slowly approached Boromir's bed.

"Better, thank you," Boromir replied, wondering what Atalar wanted. Boromir was sure he hadn't only come here to find out how his future brother-in-law was doing. He decided that it was better to ask him straight forward than to exchange polite words about their well-beings and the weather before they finally got to the real reason he was here.

"So what can I do for you?" Boromir asked, trying to let his voice sound nicely.

"Nothing," Atalar replied. "I mean, I..."

"Yes?"

"I..." Atalar tried again and then swallowed hard because he didn't know how to continue.

"Go ahead," Boromir said, a bit impatiently. He frowned slightly when the younger man started to fumble in the pocket of his trousers. He got out a rather small item and offered it to Boromir whose eyes grew wide when he realized what it was.

"I thought you would want it back," Atalar explained unnecessarily while Boromir carefully took the necklace of his mother out of the young man's hand.

"It's still broken, but you could have it getting repaired."

"Thank you," Boromir said, still looking down, turning the charm in his fingers as if he couldn't believe it was the true one.

"You are welcome," Atalar replied in a low voice.

"No, I mean it. I thank you very much. Thank you. I can't express what this means to me," he said with a voice that was suddenly hoarse and threatened to crack. He closed his fingers around the amulet as if he never wanted to let go of it again and raised his head to look at Atalar, but to his surprise the young man had left again without Boromir noticing.

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.

Aerilyn knocked on the door and only a second later heard Boromir's voice asking her in. She entered the room and softly closed the door behind her back again. A loving smile showed on her face when she caught the sight of her future husband.

Boromir was in his bed, but he sat upright and studied some sort of map. He couldn't lie down anyhow, even if he wanted to, because the whole bed was covered with rolls of papers, maps and plans. Faramir and a man Aerilyn didn't know were sitting on chairs next to the bed while Aragorn leaned against the wall, right next to the open window. They obviously had been involved in heated discussions, but as soon as Aerilyn had entered the room their conversation died away and everybody looked at her simultaneously. Aerilyn felt a blush creeping over her face and just wanted to apologize for disturbing and then leave again when Boromir raised his voice and broke the silence.

"Would you please excuse the Lady and me for a minute?" he asked the other men without taking his eyes of Aerilyn's face.

"I think it will do you good to have a little rest from the preparations," Faramir said while he rose on his feet.

"We all could stand a little rest," Aragorn corrected Faramir and crossed the room to get to the door. His gaze rushed over Aerilyn's frame while he approached her. Once again he noticed that she was a graceful sight, unmistakably of noble birth and raised to take her place as the well-bred wife of a powerful man, but yet there was something refreshing about her. The vast majority of Gondor's people was enthusiastic about welcoming her as the woman next to their future ruler. An open smile spread on his face when their gazes locked and she smiled back beamingly.

"I will let you know when you can come back in," Boromir said just before Aragorn, Faramir and the man Aerilyn didn't know exited.

"Take your time," Faramir replied and winked at Aerilyn whose smile grew wider due to his remark. While the three men left the room quickly and silently, Aerilyn stepped closer to the bed Boromir sat on.

"What a pleasure to see you," he said with a happy smile and placed a hand on her hip when she came to a halt in front of him.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, bent down and brushed a quick kiss on Boromir's forehead.

"Now that you are here, yes," he replied and drew her closer until he could lean his head against her enticing décolleté.

"Stop sweet-talking me, I am serious," she replied and ran a hand through his hair tenderly.

"I am serious, too. I do feel better."

"Will you show me what you are busying yourself with?" she asked, letting her gaze range over all the things that occupied his bed and the nearby table, but before he could reply her eyes found something else that caught her interest and made her forget about all the maps and plans.

"Did Faramir get you these?" she asked, pulled from his embrace and went to the table on which a small plate with delicious looking sweets was placed.

"No," Boromir answered briefly. He watched Aerilyn stretching out a delicate hand, grabbing the small card that was attached to the plate with a blue band.

"Get well soon. From Melina," Aerilyn read out loud and paused for a second, biting her lower lip. Then she raised her head again, pierced Boromir with a sharp gaze and asked: "Who is Melina?"

A grin formed on Boromir's face.

"Are you jealous, my dear?" he asked teasingly.

"No, I'm not!" Aerilyn shot and an angry sparkle flickered in her dark eyes, proving her words wrong.

"No, of course not," Boromir replied ironically, his smile growing even wider. He actually was quite flattered that she reacted this way, although he sometimes found her passionate temper rather exhausting.

"Well yes, I admit it, I am jealous indeed. But I'm not jealous for nothing. I don't find it very appropriate and tactful of you to accept gifts from other women so short before our wedding."

"Melina is the daughter of one of my generals," Boromir explained.

"So?" Aerilyn snapped. "Still she could have gone into raptures about you. She obviously tries to catch your fancy."

"With sweets?" Boromir asked in disbelief and furrowed his brows.

"Why not?" Aerilyn asked back. "Besides, she wrote the card in red ink, just in case you didn't notice."

"I admit it could be true that Melina developed a little crush on me," Boromir said.

"See!" Aerilyn blurted out before he could continue and pointed at him accusingly. "I knew it!"

"But Melina is only ten, Aerilyn," Boromir explained and couldn't help laughing softly when he saw her baffled facial expression.

"Oh," she finally said, her cheeks turning deep red. Then she had to laugh too.

"Oh no, I am sorry. I feel so stupid..." she said chuckling.

"You don't need to apologize," he replied.

"May I have one?" she suddenly asked.

"Of course, feel free to eat as many as you wish. I'm not really into sweets."

He watched her letting one of the tiny, soft balls vanish between her lips. Her eyes widened and She gave a sigh of pure pleasure when the heavenly flavor exploded on her tongue.

"Good?" he wanted to know while she took a second one in her mouth.

"_Good_?" Aerilyn asked with a full mouth, "These are not just good. These are wonderful. Fantastic. May I have another one?"

Boromir laughed and nodded softly. He watched her eating one more, and then another, and another...

"What?" she asked when she saw the startled expression in his eyes. "May I remind you that I need to eat for two?"

He smiled and made a small gesture signaling her over.

"Join me, please" Boromir said and quickly rearranged a few items to make some space for Aerilyn to sit down.

"With pleasure," she replied, grabbed a few more sweets and let herself sink down on the bed next to her future husband. He chuckled again when he looked at her face and raised a hand to wipe the left corner of her mouth clean from small traces of the candy. She closed her eyes, turned her head a bit so his fingertip traveled from the corner to the middle of her lips and placed a gentle kiss on the callous skin there. His hand slid from her mouth to the back of her delicate neck, softly pushing her towards him. She held her breath in anticipation of the kiss that was about to come and reacted with radiant enthusiasm when he lowered his lips on hers. Pleased with her ardent response Boromir quickly deepened the kiss, tasting the sweet flavor of candy in her mouth. When Aerilyn had no more breath left, she broke from his demanding mouth, causing him to move his lips to her neck. He felt her fingers running through his hair playfully and closed his eyes, never stopping to place small, sucking kisses on the delicate and soft skin over her carotid artery that was pulsing rapidly against his lips and tongue.

"What sort of preparations did Faramir speak of just before he left?" she suddenly asked in a low, dreamy voice. "I thought the wedding preparations are done by now."

Boromir froze in his movement, his mouth lingering on her velvety neck.

"Is something wrong?" she asked when she noticed that he was stiffening and his loving kisses had ceased. He backed away in order to look at her face, finding her dark eyes expressing pure confusion. Boromir sighed heavily and framed her face with his hands.

"These are no wedding preparations we are discussing," he said softly and stroked her cheek with one of his thumbs. He had totally forgotten that she didn't know about their father's intention of beginning a war against the Steward of An'Dorias who had tried to damage their alliance with such foul intrigues.

"No?" Aerilyn asked, the tone in her voice indicating that she was already suspecting what he was about to tell her. Boromir shook his head slowly, his gaze expressing a silent apology.

"No," he repeated in a low voice and swallowed. He withdrew his hands from her face and grabbed her hands, holding to them tightly with a loving squeeze. He didn't know how to tell her in a gentle, careful way and so he just said it straight forward. 

"We will be at war soon," he explained bluntly. Aerilyn needed a few moments to digest the news and then the confusion in her eyes made way for fear and anxiety.

"What about you?" she asked with a faint voice.

"Of course I will go with my men."

"No!" Aerilyn blurted out, pulled her hands from his tender grip and clutched Boromir's shirt as if she wanted to shake him.

"What do you expect, Aerilyn? I am the captain of Gondor's armies. I have to lead my soldiers, I can't send them out to the battlefields without being by their sides."

"But... but look at you! Your wounds... You haven't recovered properly and..." Aerilyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself down. She let go of his clothes, lay her folded hands in her lap and then raised her head to face him again.

"When will you set out?" she asked with a more or less steady voice, doing the best she could to control her emotions.

"The day after the wedding," Boromir told her in a low voice. Aerilyn stared at him thunderstruck, her lips slightly parted in shock.

"I am sorry," Boromir added and felt like the clumsiest man on Middle-Earth the moment he spoke the apology out loud.

"It's not your fault," Aerilyn finally said after a long moment of silence, her voice revealing that she was struggling with tears. "You only do your duty."

"You know that I love you, don't you?" he asked and gently caught her chin between his thumb and index finger. "And that I would prefer to stay here with you, especially the days after our wedding. But it cannot be."

"I know," Aerilyn whispered and tried to smile at him, but failed terribly. Instead a few tears burst from her eyes and she silently cursed herself for being such a sniveling weakling, but she couldn't help it. She never had been good at suppressing her feelings.

"Come here," Boromir murmured, drew her close to nestle her up against his body, gently rocking and caressing her.

"I am sorry, I don't want to cry all the time. It just happens against my will," she whined and buried her face against his chest, her tears seeping into his shirt. She sniffed loudly to prevent her nose from running and with that spoiling his clean, fresh clothes. His scent alone occupied her mind the moment she breathed in and for a second her sense of smelling was confused because it didn't detect the fragrance it was expecting. He smelled of soap, medicine and bandages, so very different from what he used to smell of under normal circumstances. Thanks to her sensitive nose she still could have told it was Boromir only from sniffing his body with closed eyes, but his familiar virile, masculine odor was almost entirely overpowered by the uncomfortable smell of medical character. The discreet earthy, coppery aroma that had emanated from him and Aerilyn had come to savor when being close to him was gone completely.

"I will just take your tears as a compliment, for I guess they signify that you will miss me," Boromir said and gently placed a kiss on top of her head.

"Yes," Aerilyn sniffed and clung to his body in pure desperation. She remained cuddled against her future husband for a few more moments until he took a deep breath and declared: "I'm sorry, Aerilyn, but you need to leave now. I have a lot of things to care for concerning the military matters."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" she asked and straightened up again.

"No, thank you." He raised both hands and wiped the tears from her glowing face. "Just do me the favor and wash your face before you leave. I don't want the people to see your tears and start spreading rumors and make up stories. I don't want them to think we had a dispute or something."

Aerilyn nodded understandingly and Boromir brushed one last kiss on her hot and wet lips. After she had eliminated every hint of her crying and left Boromir's room again she felt so downhearted that she had to pull herself together very much not to burst out into tears again every second. She needed to talk with somebody. Somebody who knew her well, who understood what was going on in her heart and mind and who could soothe her better than anybody else. She needed to talk with her brother, and so she started to head towards Atalar's chambers.

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*** P.S.: I changed Boromir's color of eyes so they match Sean Bean's. Now they are GREEN, I hope nobody is confused and everybody is satisfied. I promise I will never again talk about eyecolors in this fanfic again!! Thanks for reading! ***


	18. beaten

*** Attention, this will be a saaaad chapter again. But better times will follow!!! Just stay tuned!

Jim Morningstar: I love you too, baby!! ;) When are you going to update?!

Osheen Nevoy: Nope, I still haven't read any further. Shame on me!!!

Everybody: Thank you for all the praise and lovely words!! And keep the reviews coming if you want to make my day! ***

Legolas was just crossing the court when he heard somebody calling out his name. He stopped, turned around and saw Atalar trotting towards himself who was obviously too lazy to run but too polite to go slowly and let the elf wait for long.

"Have you been searching for me?" Legolas asked wonderingly once Atalar had caught up.

"Yes, I have. Where are you going?" Atalar asked while they started to move again, slowly pacing along, the morning sun warming their backs.

"To the stables. Boromir wanted to make sure I will get one of the horses."

"Really? What a coincidence," Atalar said, a slight smile spreading across his pale face. "I was looking for you because I wanted to have a talk with you on this matter."

"You want to talk about horses?" Legolas asked, a bit bewildered, and returned the smile. He was glad to see Atalar smile, even if it was only a very little one. Now that he was thinking about it, he had never seen him smile before, let alone laugh. He had seen him in fury and pain, mourning, crying and trying to kill himself, but never had he seen a joyful Atalar. He decided that he could get used to this sight and hoped he would get to know this side of the young man more closely.

"No...yes... Well, not exactly," Atalar replied, pulling Legolas from his thoughts. "I would like to give Tavor to you."

"Tavor?" Legolas repeated, furrowing one brow.

"Inunyen's horse," Atalar explained. "He is called Tavor."

Legolas stared at Atalar speechlessly, and then shook his head.

"I can't take such a gift," he denied after finding his voice again and turned his face towards the horizon again.

"Why not? I would be happy to give him to you. I know you will treat him well. Probably better than anybody else."

"But..." Legolas started and sighed softly, shifting his gaze back to Atalar so he could look him in the eyes.

"What is wrong about it?" Atalar asked a bit impatiently.

"Don't you want to keep him yourself?"

"I want to give him to you, Legolas. How often do I need to repeat myself? Or do you want to go back to Mirkwood by foot?"

"Boromir will give a horse to me."

"Tavor is a fine stallion, he will make a good companion for you. He is strong and very, very fast, after all he is a messenger's horse, but he is also very gentle. He is perfect for you. Please, Legolas, say yes already."

"If you want it that badly..." Legolas said, still feeling a bit uneasy about the offer.

"Yes, I want it. No more discussions," Atalar said.

"Well, then... thank you. I don't know what to say."

"Let's just say you owe me," Atalar suggested, but the sparkle in his dark eyes told Legolas he was only joking.

"Any plans for today?" Legolas asked enthusiastically, clasping his hands behind his back.

"No, not really. My sister's in the houses of healing with Boromir." The jealous undertone in his voice caused Legolas' smile to grow a little wider, but the elf did his best to not show it bluntly.

"Maybe you should begin cultivating other friendships than that of your sister, now that she is about to marry," Legolas pointed out.

"I don't have any other friends," Atalar said and then drew in a sudden breath as if a quick thought had come to his mind.

"So what do you want to do?" he asked when he finally realised what Legolas' intentions were, his smile getting bigger. For the first time, Legolas noticed that he had little dimples. 

"Would you show me some tricks with the bow?"

"It would be my pleasure," Legolas agreed, pleased by Atalar's sudden burst of energy.

"Fine, let's get the equipment. We'll meet back here in, say, fifteen minutes?"

"Perfect," Legolas responded and watched Atalar speeding back to where he had come from before he aimed at the room Boromir had given to him for his stay at Minas Tirith.

Atalar pushed the door to his room open and entered swiftly, still a little smile on his face. He wanted to quickly get his bow, a few arrows and, just in case it should get colder during the day again, one of his capes, so Legolas wouldn't have to wait for him. For some reason he assumed that the elf would come back to their meeting point earlier than in fifteen minutes. Rapidly, he turned to one corner of the rather large room where some of his weapons lay tossed on the ground since he always had been a messy person, but when his eyes captured the sight of his bed, his heart skipped a beat and he froze in his movement. The bed was freshly made. One of the maids must have done it while he had been in search for Legolas. He felt panic rising inside of him. If somebody had made his bed, that particular somebody must have found it...

He leapt forwards, a shivering, desperate breath rushing out of his lungs audibly, and grabbed the snowwhite pillow with a nervous hand. He swallowed and carefully picked the pillow up, almost not daring to look. It was gone. Somebody had found it, and now it was gone. A frustrated, desolate grunt broke from his lips while he smashed the pillow down again, not knowing what to do now. He could slap himself for being so stupid. He had known that this wasn't the best hiding place. He had known...

"Are you missing this?" a deep voice came from behind, making Atalar jump from the bed with a start. He twirled around, coming face to face with his father who sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room. Atalar hadn't even noticed that there was somebody else in this room when he had entered. The young man's gaze dropped to his father's hand, and there it was, right between his father's fingers. The strand of red hair he had taken from Inunyen just before leaving her body to the flames. At first, he had carried it with him all the time, but lately he had kept it underneath his pillow. It helped him finding rest and untroubled sleep. It probably was only stupid superstition, but it worked, and that was everything that counted. 

Atalar felt a blush creeping over his face and his heart starting to race when Ribensis' facial expression hardened while he let his hand sink down again, very slowly.

"Tell me, what does this mean?" the Steward wanted to know. Atalar opened his mouth, but he could not form one decent word and therefor just closed it again without having said anything.

"What does this mean?!" his father roared, getting up from the chair with surprising speed and was in front of his startled son in less than a second. Atalar jerked when his father's free hand shot towards him, grabbing him at the collar and dragging him closer with unexpected strength. Still shocked about the situation, Atalar stumbled forward, almost bumping into his father whose face expressed huge anger by now.

"I asked you a question!" the Steward barked, pulling at Atalar's collar so brusquely that he almost couldn't breathe anymore.

"I know not what you mean!" Atalar pressed out and closed both hands around his father's forearm, trying to shove him off.

"Don't you dare lying to your father's face!"

"You are suffocating me!" Atalar rasped, still trying to fight himself free, but his father was a very strong man, especially when he was furious about something.

"Is this not some of Inunyen's hair?!" Ribensis wanted to know, not losening the lock of his fingers.

"Father, please! I... can't brea..."

"It's a simple question, Atalar! Have you been involved with Inunyen?!"

"Yes, it is her hair!" it burst from Atalar. 

"It is hers..." the young man repeated, lower this time.

"So it is true...," his father whispered thunderstruck, his grip getting weak, allowing Atalar to breathe properly again. For a second Atalar thought he was going to let go of him entirely and maybe even cry, so much despair was showing in his dark eyes, but then massive fury took control over the Steward again and he once more grabbed his son tightly and pushed him to the wall so forcefully that Atalar couldn't help making a low sound of anguish.

"I cannot believe this! You and this corrupt slut... This cannot be true!"

"This is the truth!" Atalar yelled back, getting enraged himself. "It's the truth, you have to accept it!"

"Never will I accept this! How could you, Atalar?! You are the son of the Steward, how could you have your way with her?! She was nothing but a mere messenger, and now we know she was a spy, that is of course even worse! Why didn't you choose somebody else for your pleasures?! There are so many ladies who fancy you and would be more appropriate for these matters!"

"But I didn't just use Inunyen for carnal pleasures! I loved her!"

"Shut up, I don't want to hear that!" Ribensis shouted horrified, then asked a little more controlled: "For how long has this been going?"

"For about six years," the young man answered truthfully and prepared for another of his father's outbursts.

"Six years?! Atalar, are you insane?! What has gotten into you?! Don't you see what a shame this is to our family?! The Steward's only son having an affair with our empire's greatest enemy's daughter?! I'm only glad this whore is dead, otherwise I would have executed her by myself!"

"Don't talk about her like that!" Atalar yelled, trying to hide the pain his father's words caused him. "Inunyen was not a whore."

"Wasn't she?" Ribensis asked back. "Did she not spread her legs for you although she knew it was wrong?!"

"It is not wrong to love," Atalar replied, his voice cracking and losing its frantic strength.

"It is wrong to bed somebody like her if you are the Steward's son! Just imagine what it would have meant if she had given birth to a son fathered by you!"

Atalar clenched his teeth, trying to control the overwhelming fury that built up in his stomach. He could have tried to appease his father by telling him that he had made love to Inunyen only once during all those years and that there hadn't been a child begotten from this single encounter, but he didn't do it. If he now behaved as if he regretted his actions and was ashamed of his feelings, he would not only disgrace the remembrance of the only woman he had ever truly loved but also bring disgrace upon himself. Instead of telling his father that Inunyen and he rarely had shared sexual moments he opened his mouth and heard himself say: 

"I would have been proud to have her giving birth to my children."

"Curse you! Curse you and Inunyen!" Ribensis spat at him and before Atalar was aware of his father's intention threw the red, soft curl into the flames of the fireside that was only few feet away from where they were standing.

"_No_!" it broke from Atalar and he attempted to jump after it in order to try to rescue what was possible, but his father grabbed him by his shoulders roughly and slammed him back against the wall. Atalar felt the back of his head smash to the hard stony surface and for a moment everything went black. It was only thanks to the brutal lock of the Steward's hands that he didn't slip to the ground.

"If I ever find out that you knew about Inunyen's identity and her plans, I swear you will be put under arrest like any other betrayer would be!" he heard his father holler, but although he was only inches away it sounded as if he was very far away. "Don't expect mercy only because you are my son!"

The throbbing pain in Atalar's head was so overwhelming that he felt sick from it. He struggled hard to escape the stupor that dominated his mind and blinked his eyes open with a lot of effort.

"Did you hear what I said?!" his father wanted to know and shook him again, making the back of his head collide with the wall once more. Atalar groaned in pain and tried to push his father away, but he couldn't gather enough strength to do it.

"Let go of me," he whispered exhaustedly, his voice shivering with both physical and mental pain.

"Did you know about her plans?!"

"No, I did not."

"If you lie to me..."

"No, please... I swear I did not know!" the words rushed out of Atalar's mouth, his tone bearing slight panic. "You are hurting me, please let go!"

"I am hurting you?!" Ribensis asked. "Do you know how badly your sister was hurting the recent days?! Do you know how much pain your Inunyen caused her?!"

Atalar couldn't respond and shut his eyes tight, concentrating on fighting back the tears that threatened to spring to his eyes.

"Answer your father!" he heard Ribensis holler madly, and then a powerful slap hit him hard across the face. He didn't reply, nor did he defend himself or react in any other way to the beating that followed. He just let it happen. He let his father work off his fury at his costs, let him misuse his body, bruising and hurting him. He knew it would be over soon and his father would leave him alone again with new, fresh wounds in body and soul. After all, it had always been like this.

Aerilyn thought about her conversation with Boromir again and again while she was on her way to her brother's room. She wondered whether Atalar knew about the war that was about to begin. If he did, she would get really angry with him for not telling her.

She still marvelled about the whole situation, especially about the possibility that Boromir could die on the battlefield and never see his child, when she strolled down the corridor that led to Atalar's chamber that was close to her own. Her thoughts were only interrupted, when she heard a strange sound coming from her brother's room. Almost as if there was a fight going on in there...

She felt her heartbeat quickening when images of their childhood rushed through her head, images of a broken, bruised and crying Atalar. A lump formed in her throat and she almost was too afraid to find out what exactly was going on, but when she heard her brother groan in pain she started to run. Heavily breathing, she pushed the door open with the use of her full weight and gave a desperate, painful noise when she realized what was happening in front of her.

"No! Stop it!" Aerilyn screamed when she saw her father beating on her brother again and again. She started to move, but it felt as if she didn't get closer at all. Horrified, she witnessed another bash going straight into Atalar's face, this time an extremely hard one, and he was thrown down by the heavy impact. He fell in a most unfortunate way and his forehead knocked against the sharp corner of the massive table that stood nearby. Aerilyn couldn't help crying out when she saw and heard his head hitting on the hard wood. It was one of the most horrible sounds that ever had reached her ears and she felt tears gathering in her eyes when she saw her brother's body collapsing limply to the floor. Her eyes widened in shock, releasing a few tears, when she discovered the bright red blood that covered the corner of the wooden table.

"What have you done?!" Aerilyn screamed hysterically at her father and hurried to Atalar's side. She carefully rolled him on his back and took his head in her hands, gently framing his face with shivering fingers. She was relieved to see that he wasn't unconscious, only a bit disoriented. The large wound on his forehead spilled quite some blood that ran down the light skin of his pale face, but he was alive.

"Atalar..." Aerilyn whispered and smiled faintly, stroking his cheek gently. He lifted a hand, obviously in order to touch her face too, but before he reached her, their father grabbed Aerilyn's arm and roughly dragged her up on her feet.

"Stay out of the way!" Ribensis hissed furiously and tried to hurl Aerilyn aside, but she used all her strength to keep her balance, ripped herself free from her father's grip and stepped back between him and Atalar.

"If you want to continue to beat your own son to death you will have to hit me first!" Aerilyn stated and built herself up in front of her father in a desperate attempt to protect her brother. She tried to sound strong and determined, but her voice was shivering, revealing her fear. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw her father raising his hand, but before she fully realized that he was going to do it and had a chance to duck away he slapped her across the face. Hard. The world stopped for a moment when the bash made her head fly aside, the intense pain taking her breath away. It almost felt like in slow motion when her whole body was flung aside from the heavy impact of the slap, and suddenly she found herself on the floor, front side down, right next to her brother. 

Never before had her father hit her. She hadn't expected him to do so now and was paralyzed with shock for a few seconds. She stared at Atalar's bruised face that was now on one level with her own. She watched the lines of blood running from his forehead all over his face down to his chin where red drops formed and fell down to the ground, almost like tears. She saw the sides of his nose trembling with rage, and she saw the massive pain and fury in his eyes. It made her heart break to see him like that. She wanted to soothe him, to embrace him and tell him that she loved him. Slowly, she lifted a hand and wanted to wipe the blood from his trembling lips, but before she reached his face her wrist was captured by a strong hand and again she was pulled up on her feet. Pulled away from her beloved brother. Aerilyn shrieked in pain and tried to escape the grip, but her father was of course too strong.

"Don't you dare defy me!" he screamed at her, shaking her so heavily that she whimpered in pain.

"Take your hands off her!" Aerilyn heard her brother holler right next to her. He must have gotten up on his feet again within seconds as soon as Ribensis had dragged her up.

"Shut up before I forget myself!" their father replied outraged.

"I said take your hands off her!" Atalar repeated, the words coming out in a furious threat.

"Who do you think you are to speak to me like that?!" his father replied, at least as outraged as Atalar was. "You are still the rebellious brat you were when you were a little boy!"

"And you are still the belligerent, hardhearted man who lacks fatherly love for his children!"

"Stop it, please!" Aerilyn cried, tears running down her face, but neither of the fighting men paid attention to her.

"It is beyond my understanding how I ever could produce somebody like you!" Ribensis hissed furiously.

"Perhaps you didn't!" Atalar shot back. "If you mistreated mother like you do Aerilyn and me, I wouldn't be surprised if we were both fathered by a man into whose arms you forced her with your insufferable behavior!"

"That's the limit! You..." Ribensis hissed, his voice trembling with rage, "How dare you?! You are a disgrace for our family! I am ashamed to be your father!"

"I am not only ashamed to be your son, I am disgusted by it! I am sickened at carrying your blood in my body!"

Atalar had not even spoken out loud everything he wanted to throw at his father's head when Ribensis let go of Aerilyn's arm abruptly and, instead of holding to his daughter, smashed the back of his hand across Atalar's bleeding face with a very strong and quick movement. Aerilyn jerked with a low, frightened cry, expecting her brother to fall to the ground again, but this time he was prepared and remained on his feet. And then it happened. Without thinking about it, Atalar raised his hand against his own father and struck back for the first time in his life.

Ribensis didn't react to the unexpected resistance, more because he was paralyzed with astonishment than with pain from the sudden hit. Before the Steward could find back to his reactions, Atalar's fist smashed in his face again, and this time there was more pressure beneath the punch. Ribensis backed away with a gasp of shock and anguish, the burning pain throbbing in his left cheekbone.

"Never touch my sister again or I will kill you!" Atalar yelled out of his mind and wanted to place another bash, totally caught up in the hate and wrath that had built up hidden deep inside of him for so many years, but Aerilyn stopped him by grabbing his arms.

"Please, don't," she whispered full of fear. Atalar looked down at her, breathing heavily and his eyes filled with the hatred towards their father.

"How dare you beat me? Your very own father..." Ribensis said in a low voice, obviously still in massive shock. Atalar raised his head again to face him while Aerilyn still clung to one of his arms with both of her hands.

"It was you who taught me that it is easy to beat on your closest relatives, your very own blood. Or wasn't it you who maltreated me for all those years, poisoning my childhood with your ill behavior?"

His father's gaze, dark and mad with anger, seemed to pierce right through to his aching heart.

"You will regret that, Atalar. This will have a tragic ending for you, of that you can be certain," Ribensis said, the tone on his voice calm but threatening.

"I'm not afraid of you. I'm no little boy you can shove around any longer," Atalar replied, holding the cold stare of his father with flaming eyes and clenched teeth. Father and son stared at each other for a tortous moment that seemed like an eternity. Finally, Ribensis raised his voice for one last sentence.

"I wish you never had been born," he said, his voice frosty as ice, and then left the room quickly.

Aerilyn wanted to say something, but instead of proper words there came only a strange sound out of her mouth, an odd combination of a muffled sob and desperate gurgle, and when Atalar drew her into a tight embrace she clung to him frantically while her body started trembling like mad. Atalar held her close, gently rocking her in his arms in an unsuccessful attempt to soothe her.

"Come, you better lie down," he whispered and led her to his bed, but not before locking the door to the room. When she finally was resting on her side, the soft blanket underneath her, Atalar lay down behind her with a low sigh after using the corner of the sheets to wipe most of the blood off his face.

"I am sorry," he said, his fingers playing with curly strands of her hair.

"What for?" she asked with a faint voice. She didn't turn around but remained with her back to him. She couldn't stand to see his beaten face and the sorrowful expression in his eyes.

"I am so sorry that I couldn't protect you. I didn't manage to keep him from hitting you."

"No apologies, Atalar, please. You did so much for me. I don't know how I ever would have done without you. I am so grateful to have you as my brother."

"The day you were born I was only six years old, but I remember it as though it was yesterday," Atalar told her, his voice hardly above a whisper. "He had beaten me until I had no more strength to scream. That moment, I thought he was going to kill me. Perhaps he would have done it, I don't know. He only let go of me because the servant brought him news that mother had gone into labor. Some hours later you were born and later, in the evening, I was allowed to see you. I will never forget that moment. There I was with all those fresh bruises, scabs and a broken wrist... and you were so... so perfect. Totally unscathed. Simply beautiful and so innocent, not yet knowing of the cruelty that was dominating the world. That moment I swore to myself that I would do my best to fight back this cruelty and keep you safe. I wanted you to keep your fresh and carefree beauty."

Aerilyn pressed her lips together to suppress a low sound of sorrow while silent tears escaped her eyes although shut tight.

"Our father ruined my life, I couldn't let him do the same to you. And I will not allow him to do so now. You have my promise."

She wanted to reply, but her words were stifled by a sob she couldn't keep back. She lifted a hand to her eyes and rubbed the tears out of them as if she could rub away the sorrow and pain, too. But it only made things worse and the more she tried to fight the emotions back, the more tears were shed.

"Don't cry, Lyn," Atalar whispered, embracing her with one arm from behind. He moved closer until the full length of his front was softly pressing against her backside. She felt his hot breath against the back of her neck, his caressing hand on her belly, his strong heartbeat against the skin of her back. She felt secure and loved, but still her heart was aching heavily.

"Everything will be fine soon," Atalar added, comforting his sister carefully.

"How do you know?" she asked in a low voice and sniffed.

"You will see, little one. Boromir will heal quickly, he's one of the strongest men I've seen. And once he's fine again you will marry him and live happily ever after."

Aerilyn had to chuckle despite the great sorrow that dominated her and slowly turned around in her brother's hug to face him. When she saw his sad eyes the smile faded away again and she raised a hand to place her palm against his pale cheek.

"And you?" she asked and sighed heavily.

"What about me?"

"I want you to be happy as well."

He smiled and moved his head slightly so his forehead touched hers, leaving traces of fresh blood on her smooth skin.

"It's enough happiness for me if I know that you are fine," he whispered.

"No, it's not," Aerilyn protested and choked hardly before she begged: "Stay with me in Gondor."

"What?" Atalar asked and almost had to laugh about her suggestion.

"Please, Atalar. I am sure Boromir would arrange everything for your permanent stay."

"I don't think he would do that."

"Why not? I won't ask him to put an additional bed for you in our bedchamber."

Atalar had to smile again.

"Do you remember what we always used to say?" she asked and bit her lower lip.

"That we will stick together."

"Exactly," Aerilyn said, "And I don't want you to go back with our father. I'm so afraid that he will do something to you. Something worse than a slap in the face."

"He will not," Atalar said and drew her even closer, wrapping also the second arm around her slender body. She nestled up to him desperately, pressing her face against his warm body.

"I couldn't stand to lose you," she whispered, her words muffled from his clothes, while tears started to fall again. "I love you."

"I love you too, my little Lyn," he responded and ran his fingers through her hair tenderly.

"Don't leave me."

"But Boromir will care for you from now on. You won't need me anymore."

"Boromir is not my brother," she pointed out. "I will always need you. No husband could replace you and give me what you and I share."

"What about Faramir? I thought you like him very much, similar to a brother."

"Yes, but that is not the same. I don't want anyone but you."

He felt his heart brim over with joy because of her words. He was flattered that she wanted him to stay, and it felt so good to be needed and loved by his sister. He held her tight and continued to play with her soft hair while he used his other hand to rub her back and fondle her neck. She had always liked it that way, since she had been only a little girl.

"Atalar?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, my little one?"

"May I stay with you tonight?"

"But it is not even noon yet, Lyn," Atalar pointed out, smiling faintly.

"I know, but I thought I could ask already."

"You don't need to ask," he replied. "Of course you can stay."

Before she could reply anything, there was a knock on the door. Atalar felt Arilyn's body tense up massively in his embrace. He kissed her head and wanted to get of the bed, but she clung to him tightly and shook her head.

"Don't open the door," she whispered fearfully.

"It won't be him," Atalar tried to calm her down. "He never comes back after..." His voice faded and he swallowed nervously. Then another knock, a little louder this time.

"It won't be him," Atalar said again and rose on his feet to go to open the door. It indeed wasn't their father, but a worried looking nurse from the houses of healing. Atalar had seen her before, right after coming back from the journey.

"Steward Ribensis sends me," she explained calmly, eyeing the wound on Atalar's forehead. "He told me you fell."

Atalar snorted slightly at this remark.

"Yes," he then said flatly. "I fell."

"Well, would you let me come in and have a look at the injury?"

"Of course, please come in."

While the nurse took care of the wound, Aerilyn remained in her brother's bed, silently staring at the bloodstains that started to dry on the innocently white sheets.

"I'm afraid you need a few stitches," she heard the nurse saying while cleaning the laceration carefully.

"Do I have to go to the houses of healing for that?" Atalar asked back in a low voice, as if he thought Aerilyn was sleeping and didn't want to wake her.

"No, I can do it here if you want."

"Thank you," Atalar replied and then, no more words were exchanged until she was done with him and he walked her back to the door.

"If you get a headache, or if the wound causes you any other trouble, you know where to find me," she said.

"Yes, thank you again," Atalar said and watched her walking down the corridor. When he turned back to his room and wanted to close the door, he heard how she greeted somebody on the corridor, and then a familiar voice greeting back. Legolas! He had totally forgotten about him... Before he could even make up his mind about what to do, either closing the door and pretend he wasn't there, or facing Legolas and tell him the truth, the elf reached his room and came to a halt directly behind of Atalar who stood with his back towards the corridor.

"Are you busy?" Legolas asked. "I was waiting for quite a while and thought I would come and look what you are..." His words stuck in his throat when Atalar turned around, revealing his face to the elf.

"Atalar..." Legolas stammered, trying to look not as shocked as he actually was about the sight he caught. "What happened?"

"I... fell," Atalar heard himself murmur, avoiding Legolas' concerned gaze.

"You fell?" Legolas echoed in disbelief.

"Yes. In a most unfortunate way. I knocked my forehead directly against the corner of the table."

"And from knocking your forehead against the corner of the table you suffered all those bruises all over your face? And your lip split from that? From knocking your forehead against the table?" Legolas asked softly. Atalar looked up into Legolas eyes, tears springing to his own. He was so ashamed, although he knew that it wasn't him who was to blame for all this.

"Yes," Atalar said stubbornly, but he couldn't keep a single tear from rolling down his cheek.

"Does this happen often?" Legolas wanted to know.

"I think you better go find somebody else to teach your tricks," Atalar suggested, ignoring Legolas question.

"You know that this is wrong, don't you?" the elf said. "Nobody has the right to do this to you. Not even your father."

"This is none of your business, please go now," Atalar said with a muffled voice and closed the door into Legolas face without losing one more word.

"Who was that?" Aerilyn asked when Atalar came back to her and lay down again, softly cradling her.

"Nobody," Atalar whispered and closed his eyes. They lay for some moments, not talking, but finally Aerilyn couldn't hold the question back anymore.

"What happened, Atalar? Why did father do this?" she asked in a very low voice. He didn't reply immediately, but then told her about everything. Once he started letting his secret out, he couldn't stop anymore and enfolded the lie of his life in front of her, not caring what she would think or say, whether she would hate him when she finally knew the truth. When he was finished, Aerilyn turned around again and looked at him for a long moment, her eyes expressing genuine sympathy.

"You really loved her, didn't you?" she whispered and softly ran her fingers through his dark hair, wiping a few short curls from his forehead.

"Yes," he only replied and batted his eyelids to hide his pain. Aerilyn didn't know how to respond, she couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. Usually, it was Atalar who had to soothe her, and not the other way round. The current situation was unfamiliar, but Aerilyn was glad that she finally had the chance to do something for him after all those years he had cared for her. She moved closer towards him and embraced him tightly.

"If you want to talk some more, about this or anything else..." Aerilyn said and sighed deeply. "I only want you to know that I will listen, no matter what you want to tell. I will always love you."

He weakly nodded, his hot breath hitting against her sensitive neck. She felt that he was about to cry. Softly, she buried one hand in his short hair to hold his head against her body.

"Please believe me, I didn't know," he whispered against her warm skin. "Never would I have allowed her to hurt you. But I didn't know. I didn't see."

"It's alright, Atalar. Don't blame yourself, please."

"But I don't understand why I didn't notice something... anything. I feel so guilty. I am confused... I still love her, although I know what she has done to you and what she tried to do to me. How can I love a woman who commanded to assassinate you and tried to stab me? And how could I be so blind? I was so close to her, yet I didn't notice anything about her true identity. I don't understand how this could happen."

Soon she felt the wetness of his silent tears creeping over her own skin and she tightened her embrace to show him that she was there for him. Just the way he always had been there for her in their past. They must have lain like that for a little eternity, but finally they both fell asleep, snuggled up to each other in an embrace of loving siblings, although it wasn't even noon.

*** Sorry, no Boromir in this one... But he'll be in the next chapter again! As I said at the beginning already: Just stay tuned! ***


	19. caught in the act

*** Hiya everyone!! Sorry for the delay, but now I'm back and I'll try to update sooner in future. Please note that this chapter was NOT beta-read, don't rip my head of for mistakes in spelling/grammar and odd sentence structures and so on. English is not my native tongue. 

I assume most of you found the last chapter rather boring since there was a huge lack of "Lord of the Rings" characters, but the chapter was important to me so I decided to not change it. There's plenty of Boromir in this one again, so I hope you'll like it better.

Reviews are appreciated. Thanks for your patience.***

Aerilyn stood in front of the door to Boromir's room in the houses of healing, her heart pounding madly. 

It was late in the evening and she was sure Boromir was already wondering why she had not visited him during the day. She last had seen him in the morning and then, after the terrible incident with her father, slept in Atalar's bed for hours. She had never before felt so tired, as if her body had decided to claim all the sleep it had been lacking during the past days the very moment she lay down on the comfortable mattress. It had been a surprisingly untroubled and dreamless slumber, probably because her brother had been resting next to her, his warm presence calming her immensely. 

But now, she wasn't calm at all. She had been standing here for several minutes already, her nervous hand resting on the doorknob. She knew she had to face Boromir sooner or later and the longer she waited, the more miserable she felt about the whole situation. Hesitatingly, Aerilyn tightened her grasp on the doorknob and took a deep breath. 

__

No, no! a voice screamed inside of her. _You can't face him like this! _

If only she knew how he would react... She was scared. Not of his reaction towards her, after all she wasn't the one to blame for the way her face looked right now, but she feared the wrath Boromir probably would develop instantly towards her father. The last thing she wanted and needed was a brawl between her fiancé and her father, one day before her wedding. 

__

But if he does not see it today, he will tomorrow, she pondered, trying to ignore the urge to just run away. After coming to the assumption that it would very likely end in catastrophe if Boromir learned of her condition the moment they were to exchange rings and vows, she swallowed hard and opened the door as quietly as possible. 

Boromir sat on his bed, legs crossed, a huge map on his lap and a large plume in his hand. A small inkpot was placed right next to him and she watched wordlessly as he dipped the quill into it and marked several spots on the map, his handsome face a mask of concentration and engrossment. She had to summon up quite some self-control to not just turn on her heels and leave him to his planning and preparations. Instead of running away, she silently closed the door behind her back and approached her future husband with weak knees and a lump in her throat. 

"Good evening, Boromir," she said, her voice betraying her and coming out in an unsteady tone that revealed her discomfiture. His head snapped up while she came closer and the little smile that had started to cross his features when he discovered her froze the second his gaze reached her face. She came to a halt in front of him, the fingers of her intertwined hands fumbling with one another nervously. She didn't look at him, she just couldn't, but she clearly felt his intense gape. He stared at her for several moments that seemed deadly in their silence, until the paralysis of the shock ceased and he found his tongue. 

"Aerilyn, what happened?" he asked, his voice surprisingly soft and low, and reached out to her face, gently running his fingertips over the cheek that was unscathed and making her look him straight in the eyes. "Who did this to you?" 

She didn't reply but shifted her gaze back to the ground. She couldn't stand the questioning look in his eyes, the expression on his face that was beyond concern. She didn't want to talk about the matter. She wished they could just pretend nothing happened and go on. 

"Who did this?" he repeated, a little more urgently, as he withdrew his hand from her heated cheek. She heard paper rustle as he put the map aside, and then felt both his hands on her body, one stroking each one of her arms. 

"Aerilyn..." he pleaded, but she still didn't react. Instead, she pressed her lips together in a desperate attempt to fight back tears that were gathering in her eyes. Suddenly, the gentle caresses stopped abruptly and she gasped when his fingers closed around her arms firmly, almost shaking her. 

"I've asked you a simple question!" Boromir said, somewhat harsher than he had intended in the first place, not even trying to hide his impatience and anger that was starting to break free. "Answer me." 

"It is not as bad as it looks," she responded in despair, her voice low but thick with emotion. She gritted her teeth when he captured her chin between his thumb and index finger and gently forced her to look up again and meet his eyes. 

"You will tell me who hit you. Now," he demanded, his voice more tender again, but nonetheless expressing that he wasn't willing to accept her silence any longer. She knew she had better not evade his question again unless she wanted a dispute. 

"I received punishment from my father," she finally told him with a faint voice. The lump in her throat got bigger as she watched Boromir's eyes becoming thin slits, the emerald green sparking with fury. 

"It is not as bad as it looks," Aerilyn repeated and then winced when he suddenly shouted at her. 

"_Not bad_?!" he spat. "Did you actually look at your face?!"

"Please..." she whined and put both hands on his upper arms in a helpless attempt to calm him, but it didn't effect him at all. It even seemed to encourage his rage. 

"What, _please_?! You cannot seriously expect me to pretend nothing happened!" he snapped and swung his legs over the edge of the bed with a grim expression on his face. 

"What are you doing? You must lie down," Aerilyn said and slid her hands from his arms onto his chest, trying to push him back.

"No, Aerilyn! Do you realize half of your face is beaten black and blue?!"

She struggled against him, muttering another plea, but in his anger Boromir was determined and unyielding, even more so than normal. He easily pushed her aside to get out of the bed, unintentionally causing her to lose balance. She would have fallen to the ground if she not had reached out to the bed, clasping blindly and holding on to what her fingers found. In her quick motion, she brushed the inkpot and brought it to a fall. Even before it reached the floor she felt Boromir's hands catching her, but she pulled out of his grasp when the sound of glass shattering to pieces pierced their ears. 

"I'm sorry," she muttered as she knelt down on the ground in order to collect the broken fragments. 

"Aerilyn..." Boromir sighed and wrapped a strong hand around her shoulder. "Let it be. Come, you will only cut yourself. And your dress gets all messed up." 

"I don't care," she replied faintly. 

"But _I _do care. About you, I mean. Not the dress." His words had the effect he had wished since she scrambled to her legs and nestled up to him, her ink-stained hands resting flatly on his chest and her whole body pressed to his. For a moment, he held and caressed her in order to soothe her, but he had not forgotten what had to be done. 

"Where is your father now?" Boromir finally asked, causing his betrothed to pull back in his embrace to face him. She faintly shook her head while her hands curled up to fists that clung to his shirt. 

"You haven't fully recovered yet. Please, get back to bed again," she begged and made another attempt to push him down to the sheets, but he didn't let her succeed. Instead, he lifted his hands to cover her small, cold fists, squeezing them with affection. 

"I don't feel bad enough for not talking to your father about this," he said softly, yet very determined.

"No, please," she whispered. "It will make things only worse if you talk to him."

"I can't think of anything worse he could do to you," Boromir replied, his concerned gaze ranging over the dark swellings of her black eye and bruised cheekbone. 

"You are not even dressed properly," Aerilyn pointed out, trying to talk him into remaining in bed. 

"That's the slightest problem right now, don't you think?" he responded and then bent down to give her a tender kiss on her lips. It was a kiss that was supposed to express assurance and the promise to protect her, but it only caused the held tears to break free. 

"Don't go," she tried again, crying almost inaudibly, and wrapped her arms around his waist as if she wanted to hold him back with physical strength. That was of course an absurd idea, regarding the huge difference between the nature of their bodies. 

"I must," he said, grabbed her hands that were locked behind his back and opened her tight embrace easily. 

"Did your father never punish you?" Aerilyn asked desperately, silent tears falling down her cheeks. 

"He did, but that is something completely different."

"No, it's not." 

Boromir sighed and encircled her thin wrist with one large hand while he wiped her tears away with the thumb of his other hand. 

"I need to make sure he never will do it again, don't you understand that?"

"After all he is my father."

"But this is _my_ empire and as long as he plans to stay he has to stick to _my_ rules! I will go and teach him that for I believe he won't stop otherwise," Boromir said, getting enraged again. It made him more than furious that somebody had beaten her, that somebody had dared raise his hand against his future wife. That somebody had harmed the woman who would give birth to his child, the heir to his empire.

"I don't want him to hit you again," Boromir spewed before Aerilyn could say anything. "I don't want anything to happen to you. Or our child. If he beat you and caused you to lose the baby I would hate myself for the rest of my life because I didn't do anything to avert it." 

Boromir looked at her silently for a moment, his gaze fixed on the pleading expression in her dark eyes, the tears brimming along their rims. He could not tear his eyes away from the slight tremble of her pale lips, or the large bruise that seemed so wrong on her beautiful face. The rich, dark violet of the contusion contrasted to her light porcelain skin horribly. 

"I must," he finally repeated. "I don't see any reason, or any excuse for beating a woman. I will not tolerate such behavior. Not in my city, and especially not my pregnant future wife."

"That is very noble of you, but, still, I beg you, don't go. Please. You don't know him. He will only get more furious if you take him to task on this matter."

"Don't be afraid, Aerilyn. I will make sure he never again will raise his hand against you. He may be your father, but I will be your husband and I will protect you, now and in the future. You cannot expect me to look at your maltreated, sad face and not do something. I love you and I can't bear to see you suffer. This shall never happen again. Do not fret, I will see to it."

"But what about my brother?" she blurted out, her eyes filling with even more tears. Boromir stared at her, not understanding what she meant. 

"What about him?" he asked wonderingly. 

"Who will protect _him_? Who will make sure my father will never again raise his hand against Atalar?" she wanted to know, her voice growing steady again while she spoke. "If you go to my father, he maybe won't hit me again, but I just know that he will get furious about it and then it will be Atalar who suffers. I cannot let this happen."

"But..."

"No '_but'_!" Aerilyn shot. "Do you want something to happen to my brother?!" 

"No, of course not, but I cannot let your father get away with this!" he hissed. "I told you why." 

"If you go now..." Aerilyn said, her breathing shivering slightly. Boromir could see that it wasn't easy for her to form the words and speak them out loud, but she did it, and they affected him. "Be aware that I will never forgive you if anything happens to my brother because of your interference into our family business." 

He swallowed and looked at her for some silent moments until the meaning of her words had sunken in completely. 

"Interference in your family business?" he repeated huskily. After clearing his throat he added: "I thought we are a family now... you and me and..." 

His voice trailed of while he lightly brushed his fingertips over her still flat belly. When he wanted to withdraw again, she grabbed his hand with hers and gave it a tender, loving squeeze. When their gazes locked she said: 

"Of course we are, Boromir. We _are_ a family... you, me, and our yet unborn child. I didn't mean to hurt you, but... but Atalar is my family as well. Don't you understand my concern?" 

"I do. I have a brother as well and I couldn't bear it if anything happened to him, either," Boromir said and then sighed deeply, a sign that he would bend to her wishes, even though he was itching to give Steward Ribensis a piece of his mind. Or, he thought bitterly, a blow of his fist. 

"Thank you, I appreciate it," she said, genuinely grateful. "If something like this ever happens again, I promise that you will have my permission to -" 

The rest of her sentence was stifled by a firm, but loving kiss and she made a small sound of surprise that was lost to the cave of Boromir's mouth. 

"It won't happen again," he whispered against her lips. "Nothing will ever again happen to you. Not as long as you are with me, by my site." 

"Then," she whispered back and softly kissed his warm lips, "I will be safe for eternity." 

She felt him smile just before his mouth demanded another kiss, a more passionate one this time, and she leaned in to him, her body relaxing and her tears drying. She framed his face with her hands, at the same time caressing him tenderly and pulling him even closer. 

"Do you hurt a lot?" Boromir asked with concern when they disconnected after a while of demonstrating their deep affection for each other. Instead of answering his question, she looked at him with wide, glittering eyes. Boromir watched the corners of her mouth curve up into a sweet smile, and the way she pressed her lips together revealed she was trying to suppress a chuckle. 

"What is so funny?" he asked, bewildered. He doubted he would ever be capable of understanding or predicting her strange mood-swings. 

"Your face..." Aerilyn said. 

"What's with it?" 

Without saying a word, Aerilyn lifted her hands, palms open towards him. 

"Oh no..." Boromir muttered and wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his cheeks, but judging to her snicker it didn't help at all. 

"Stop, you only make it worse!" Aerilyn shrieked and grabbed him by his forearms, then burst into short and light laughter when she eyed his face again. 

"You are inky all over," she told him, a huge grin on her bruised face. 

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Boromir remarked, narrowing his eyes with feigned anger. 

"No, no! That is not true!" Aerilyn protested, still grinning at him. 

"Really?" he said, slowly and with an exaggeratedly dangerous undertone. "Do you know what we in Gondor do with little women who smear ink on other people's faces?"

"I assume nothing good," Aerilyn said and backed away with another snicker when he reached out for her, but he was too quick and swept her into his arms with a powerful motion. She squeaked when he picked her up from the floor and unsuccessfully tried to wriggle out of his grasp. 

Boromir felt his heart blossom at the sound of her laughter. It was good to hear her like this, and when he leaned over her after flinging her on his bed, he had to pause for a moment to drink in the sight of her wide, open smile and shining, dark eyes. 

"My, you are so beautiful like this. You should laugh more often," he said in a low, admiring voice and bent deeper down. 

"So should you, my lord," she whispered just before their lips met again. She wanted to embrace him, but he caught her by the wrists and pinned her arms down on the bed. 

"Keep those away from my face," he growled into the kiss, causing her to giggle again. 

"What is going on in here?!" a harsh voice roared, making the lovers break away from each other's mouths with a start. Boromir turned around while Aerilyn hurried to get from the bed and straighten her dress, her face blushing deep crimson. 

Denethor stood in the doorframe, his silent presence alone creating an intimidating, icy atmosphere. 

"Father," Boromir said monotony. "I -"

"Shut up," Denethor interrupted, annoyed, and stepped into the room, his gaze glued to Aerilyn who quickly hid her ink-stained hands behind her back. 

"It is late, young lady. You are supposed to be asleep by now, tomorrow will be a long day for the two of you." 

"Yes, I'm on my way. Good night," Aerilyn said as politely as she could, dropped a curtsy to Denethor and quickly went past him to the door. 

"And before you go to sleep, remove that ink from your hands, child," Denethor added just before she exited the room. 

"I will," Aerilyn replied, blushing even more and then left silently, but not before casting a last, loving gaze towards Boromir who winked at her in response. 

"You disappoint me greatly," Denethor said gravely after Aerilyn had vanished, and slowly stepped to the window of the room to let his tired gaze wander across the dark gardens outsides. 

"I was merely giving solace to my betrothed," Boromir tried to explain. 

"Oh yes, I could very well see that!" Denethor spat sarcastically and turned around to face his eldest son. "A fine sort of solace you have chosen there to give her."

Boromir opened his mouth to reply, but his father cut his words. 

"You are in the houses of healing, Boromir! This is no brothel!"

"And Aerilyn is no whore," Boromir added calmly. 

"Then stop treating her as such! Curb your desires! You will have her tomorrow night, is that not soon enough?! Besides, you have more important business to take care of right now. You have a war to lead, you do not have any time to dally and toy about." 

"I know my duties, and be assured that I am not neglecting them in any respect." 

Denethor only snorted about his son's remark and then added: "I only hope Steward Ribensis will not hear word about this. I doubt he would admire you for bedding his daughter before marrying the little thing." 

"Her name is Aerilyn," Boromir said a little impatiently. He did not like the way his father talked about her. "And I did not _bed _her, I soothed her. I told you once already."

Denethor raised an eyebrow, a tiny, arrogant gesture that told more than a thousand words and always caused Boromir's blood to start boiling with fury. But he successfully suppressed his inner storm and spoke with a controlled voice when he asked: "Did you not notice her face?"

"Her father hit her," Denethor remarked, calmly. 

"You know?" Boromir asked, struggling to keep his raging emotions inside. "You know and don't care?"

"It is not delightful that she will look like this on your wedding day, but the veil will hide most of it. The people won't see."

"The people won't see?" Boromir repeated, disgusted. "That is not what I meant."

"But it's what I meant," Denethor replied. "Everything else matters not. As for the slap itself... You should be glad that Steward Ribensis disciplines his daughter thoroughly. It will save you a lot of trouble."

Boromir wanted to respond to this unbelievable statement, but Denethor quickly rose one of his hands, a resolute gesture to silence his son. 

"Now, now," he then said rapidly before Boromir could pick up the topic again. "I'll send for someone to clean your face from these ridiculous ink-stains... You look like a fool. When I'm back again you will show me what you have busied yourself with during the day. And get back to bed. The morning will bring a long and exhausting day to you."


	20. the final countdown

*** Finally, another chapter. Sorry for the delay!! And everybody who's reading this: Thanks so much for still being with me and my story! I really appreciate it a lot. Thanks for your patience. I hope you like the new chapter. (Note: This wasn't beta-read. I apologize in advance for the mistakes I've made.)***

The next day started early for everybody who somehow was to be involved in the later wedding ceremonies. Boromir got up with the first rays of the rising sun and reluctantly put himself into the hands of several servants who swarmed around him like a flock of bees around a jar of honey. He didn't really understand all the trouble that was made and his mood shifted to the worse with every passing minute. He was still in pain from his healing injuries and he was tired, and though he was looking forward to finally taking Aerilyn as his lawful wife, the whole fuss-making about today's event was getting on his nerves. After long, exhausting hours of getting prepared for the festivities, the servants rushed off and granted their lord a few minutes on his own before he would get fetched and brought to the location of the marriage ceremony. 

Boromir took the opportunity to have an undisturbed, thorough look at himself in the huge mirror that happened to be in the room he was waiting. It felt as if it wasn't his reflection but a total stranger who gazed back at him from the mirror. If the sight of his bruised face hadn't mercilessly stirred up unpleasant memories, Boromir would have laughed at the absurd combination of the precious, cheerfully sparkling clothing and the maltreated head on top of it. 

He was dressed in very costly, creme-coloured garments with exorbitant adornments in glittering gold and shimmering silver, definitely the most expensive - and most uncomfortable - wardrobe he had ever worn in his whole life. The very high and extremely stiff collar was so tight that the hard fabric was practically cutting into the skin of his neck, and the long, velvety cape tore at his shoulders as it had even more and heavier ornamentation than the rest of his clothes. 

Swallowing with much effort, Boromir stepped closer to the mirror and eyed his face more accurately. His unusually pale skin was flecked with ugly bruises and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He still had a terribly black eye, but at least the swellings were almost gone completely. What bothered him most was his lower lip that had been split at various points when he had received several hard punches right in the face. Slowly, he pulled the exquisite glove from his right hand and traced the line of his injured, awfully rough lip with a bare fingertip. This was definitely _not_ what lips that were to seal a wedding should feellike. 

His gaze still focused on his own battered face, Boromir slid his hand back into the pale glove and, in a habitual gesture, rested it onto the hilt of his favourite sword that hung at his side, stuck in a golden scabbard crusted over with colorful gems and polished to perfection. 

"Maybe I should wear a veil today, too..." he muttered under his breath, his low voice dripping with bitter sarcasm when the image of his beaten betrothed came to his mind. 

"Excuse me?" a bewildered voice asked from the doorframe. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Boromir replied, dropping out of his deep thoughts in an instant, and quickly turned around to face his younger brother who was dressed in stunningly beautiful garments as well. The huge difference between them, how Boromir noticed immediately, was that Faramir looked _natural_ in them. 

__

Natural and impossibly comely, Boromir thought as he discreetly scanned his sibling from top to toe. Aloud, he only managed a curt "Neat, Faramir." His brother accepted the seemingly mediocre compliment with a genuine smile. He knew it was actually the highest form of praise Boromir could offer. 

"Thank you, but I think I can't bear comparison with you today," Faramir replied politely and approached his sibling with enthusiastic strides.

"I look ridiculous," Boromir commented dryly. 

"Nonsense. You look very noble and elegant."

"Faramir, _please_."

"I mean it!" Faramir protested when his brother shot him a warning gaze. "Why can't you stop being so pessimistic about everything for one minute?" 

"Because," Boromir said a little gruffly, "these clothes are distressing, to say the least! I've never ever worn anything this uncomfortable!"

"This is one of the joys that come with marriage, I suppose," the younger brother teased with an amused grin upon his fair features. 

"I will remind you of that wise saying of yours on _your _wedding day."

Faramir gave a short but hearty laugh. "You are very welcome to do that, one day when the time has come. For now, you need to stop whining. The ceremonies will start in only short time, you should start practicing to smile a little." 

"How shall I smile if I can't even _breathe_ in this cursed thing!" Boromir blurted out. "This collar will be my death!"

With the brusque words, he hooked his gloved fingers with the stiff collar and tugged at it to demonstrate to Faramir how unbelievably tight it was. Too late did he realize that his motion was somewhat too harsh... 

A little gasp of horror wrenched itself from Boromir's throat when he felt the large clasp that held the collar together loosen from the fabric. Paralyzed, he watched it going off his clothes with the unpleasant sound of ripping textile and falling down to the ground. 

"Great, Boromir. You just managed to tear one of the most precious heirlooms off your wedding garments and at the same time damage the collar of your suit," Faramir said as he squatted down to pick up the clasp that bore the engravings of the tree of Gondor. Fate was cruel enough to pick exactly this moment to let their father burst into the room.

"Boromir!" Denethor barked and totally ignored the younger one of the men, much to both brother's relief. Unnoticed, Faramir straightened up and quickly clasped his hands behind his back, holding on to the buckle from his brother's collar.

"Yes, father?" Boromir replied, his voice totally calm again, but Faramir could see the nervous twitch at the corner of his brother's right eye. It was such a tiny detail that no one ever noticed, not even Boromir's own father, but Faramir always had been a very attentive observer of the smallest things. 

Without adding another word, Denethor grabbed the gloved hand of his startled firstborn and slapped a roll of paper into the large, open palm. 

"What's that?" Boromir asked in confusion as he brought also his other hand up to enroll the piece of paper so he could read what was written on it. 

"I revised your speech," Denethor explained while Faramir was still standing some feet behind his back and studying his brother's face. The twitch was getting worse, he noted. Boromir was getting angry. _Really_ angry.

__

No wonder father doesn't notice Boromir is almost bursting, Faramir thought. _He doesn't even notice the buckle is missing._

"What was wrong with my speech?" Boromir demanded. 

"Read the new version and you will know. You have about ten more minutes. I think that will do to learn this one by heart." 

Before Boromir could reply, Denethor turned away from him, suddenly facing Faramir instead. 

"Father!" Boromir protested from behind, but his sharp call showed no effect. Denethor didn't even listen to him anymore. Something else had caught his attention.

"What are you hiding, Faramir?" he asked his younger son.

"Nothing."

"_Faramir! _Don't you dare lie under my roof! What is it you are hiding from me?_"_

"The... clasp," Faramir said in a rather low voice, shooting an apologizing gaze towards his brother. 

"The clasp?" Denethor repeated, obviously not understanding what his son was talking about. 

"Yes. _The clasp_. The family's clasp." 

As soon as Faramir had voiced it, Denethor swirled around to Boromir and, when he finally saw the damage done, was speechless for a second. A condition the Steward was very rarely found in.

"What happened to it?" he then wanted to know as he turned back to Faramir. Boromir opened his mouth to give an explanation, but Faramir cut him off even before he had the chance to get the first word out. 

"I accidentally ripped it off Boromir's collar," Faramir said, much to his big brother's surprise. 

"You did _what_?!" Denethor snarled, his voice building to an intimidating crescendo. 

"Faramir didn't do anything, it was I who ruined it," Boromir suddenly said from behind, causing Denethor to turn around to face him again.

"_You_?" the old Steward asked, obviously deeply shocked about the just received information. 

"Yes, me. I alone am responsible," Boromir stated matter-of-factly. 

"Do you realize what this clasp means to the family? I wore it the day I wedded your dear mother. And my father wore it on his wedding. It was given from generation to generation. It is an _honour _to wear this, and you have nothing better to do than... _rip _it off?! One should think you had a greater understanding of habits and traditions that were carried on with our lineage. I am in huge dismay about your unbelievable lack of respect for our family and Gondor."

"I didn't do it on purpose. It was an _accident_," Boromir emphasized. 

"You cannot afford any accidents, Boromir," Denethor stated and held his open hand out to the younger of his two sons. Wordlessly, Faramir dropped the buckle onto his father's palm. 

"You will put that back on," the Steward told Boromir and with a rough motion pushed the clasp into his son's hand that wasn't holding the roll of paper. His voice was calm but bore a dangerous undertone. "I don't care if you have to sew it on with your very own hands. You won't marry without it. Is that understood?" 

Not willing to listen to any contradictions, the Steward of Gondor turned away and headed towards the door. Before he left the room, he came to one more halt, but didn't make the effort to turn around to look at his sons when he spoke. 

"And don't forget about that speech," he ordered gruffly and then exited, slamming the door shut behind his back with a loud bang. Boromir stared at his brother, slightly baffled, but soon found his tongue.

"I can't believe you just lied into our father's face. For me." 

"It is your wedding day, after all. I didn't want him to get furious with you today." 

"That was really stupid of you, now he's furious with both of us. And twice as furious with you in particular," Boromir pointed out but couldn't help smiling. In fact his brother's deed, though it hadn't been honourable at all, warmed his heart. Since he couldn't get himself to form appropriate words, Boromir just stepped forward and drew his younger sibling into a tight, brotherly hug. Faramir relaxed into his big brother's embrace and stood still for a few moments, eyes closed and thoughts revolving around how sorrowful his life would be if Boromir had died from his injuries. 

"I've missed you," Faramir said simply when he gently broke from his brothers embrace. For a few seconds, they looked one another in the eyes without saying anything. Just when Boromir wanted to reply similar words to tell his sibling that he had missed him as well, Faramir clapped his hands together and destroyed the thoughtful, melancholy moment. 

"Let's go find somebody to fix your collar and reattach the clasp so you can get married!" he suggested cheerfully. "We better hurry or you won't manage to learn your revised speech."

Before Faramir could react, Boromir swatted the roll of paper against the side of his head. Laughing, Faramir tried to duck away but his brother was too quick and bombarded him with a series of playful slaps, almost tearing the roll of paper to pieces. 

"Stop it, Boromir! You need to be ready in less than ten minutes!" Faramir cried out, still laughing, but it didn't show any effects. 

"There's always time left to give my beloved baby brother a decent whacking," Boromir announced, a wide grin upon his face, and then lunged forward in an attempt to catch Faramir's head in the lock of his right arm. 

"Ready?" Atalar asked after entering the room in which Aerilyn was being dressed. 

"Almost," his sister sighed as she turned around to face him and to allow one of the maidens to tighten the laces on the back of her dress. She couldn't suppress a smile when she saw the admiring expression on Atalar's face. 

"You look so beautiful, Lyn," he complimented her promptly, causing her to blush slightly. "Boromir won't believe his eyes when he sees you." 

"You're exaggerating," she said laughing and then sat back down on a small bench so the maidens could put the finishing touches to the incredibly pretty arrangements of her raven hair. When one of the young women wanted to attach the veil, Aerilyn quickly raised her hand to stop her. 

"Would you be so kind and leave me a minute?" she asked when the maidens looked at her questioningly. "I'd like to talk to my brother. Alone." 

The servants withdrew silently while Aerilyn stood up and gently grabbed Atalar's hands. He showed a very open, genuine smile and she thought that she hadn't seen him like this in a very long time. Though she was glad, it surprised her. She had expected him to be sad about the fact that they would live in separate empires from today on. 

"Are you happy?" she asked. 

"Are _you_?" he asked back, moving his hands so hers lay in his. 

"Yes. Very." 

"Then I'm happy, too," Atalar announced, a little too cheerfully. 

"Atalar... You know you will _always_ hold a special place in my heart, don't you?"

"Yes, I know. Don't worry about me." 

"But I care about you. Promise me that you will write letters and visit me as often as you can."

"I promise."

With a loud sigh, she leaned against him. 

"I miss you already," she murmured while his arms closed around her. Before he could reply, she backed away again, breaking out of his embrace. 

"You smell of horses," she pointed out with a grin. 

"I've been at the stables." 

"In this wardrobe?" she asked and cocked an eyebrow. 

"Legolas was adorning some of the horses for the parade, I thought I could give him a hand."

"You really do like him, don't you?" Lyn asked him with a grin. 

"He's very kind," Atalar only said. He had never told Aerilyn about his suicidal attempt and that it had been Legolas who had kept him from putting an end to his life, and he didn't intend to do so such short time before her wedding. 

"I'm sure he is," Aerilyn said. "If you like him so much, he must be special. After all you are really heavy-going with making friends."

"Is this a lecture?" Atalar asked, still smiling. 

"No! Of course not. I wouldn't dare give my big brother a lecture." She reached out to where she had been sitting and picked up the veil. 

"May I put it on?" Atalar asked enthusiastically. 

"Oh, I bet you will look wonderful!" Aerilyn said chuckling and handed him the veil. 

"I'd be honoured if you did it," she said solemnly. 

"It will be my pleasure," he replied. As soon as he had finished with his sentence, Aerilyn turned all pale and the cheerful expression on her face faded away abruptly. 

"What's wrong?" her brother asked, concerned, and stepped even closer towards her, softly getting hold of her elbow. "Do you feel unwell?"

"I think I have to throw up," she whispered and lifted a hand to her mouth. Before Atalar could respond she raced out of the room. When she came back again Atalar still stood at the spot she had left him, still holding the veil in his hands. 

"How do you feel?" he asked and walked towards her when she closed the door behind her back. 

"Not very well," she groaned and leaned back against the door. "I feel so sick." 

"Don't worry, that's only the excitement," Atalar tried to soothe her. She smiled, although she felt so miserable at the moment. He misunderstood her smile, thinking she wanted to show she was grateful that he was there to support her, and so he smiled back. The truth was that she had to smile about his ignorance of the true reason that caused her sickness. It was kind of sweet that he didn't even take this possibility into consideration. Her grin grew wider, and when she imagined the startled and shocked expression that would show on his face if she told him that Boromir had both taken her virginity and made her pregnant so many days before their wedding she had to chuckle. 

"What's so funny?" Atalar asked innocently. 

"Nothing," she replied and had to laugh even more. 

"You act really strange, to say the least. First, everything was fine. Then you get sick all of a sudden, and now you are laughing for no reason at all. If I didn't know you better, I would say you are drunk." 

"No, I'm not drunk," Aerilyn said, slowly sobering up again. "I believe you are right. I'm only a little excited."

"Of course you are. Now come here so we can get you ready for the ceremony," he said. "I just hope you won't get sick in the middle of it all." 

She gave him a horrified look that caused him to laugh softly. "Don't tempt fate, Atalar!"

"I'm sorry."

"You are forgiven," she said and then joined in his chuckle. 

~ _I guess we will have a wedding to celebrate in the next chapter. So stay tuned_. ~ 


	21. forever and beyond

*** First of all: Hooray to 250 reviews!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! I was bouncing up and down with joy when I saw it!! I have to say I'm a little sad that my 250th reviewer obviously didn't read the story and flamed me for something I didn't even write… But I want to thank every single of my reviewers from the bottom of my heart, even the one who called me a "sick huzzy" (I still don't know what a "huzzy" is but I assume nothing good). Yeah. So thanks!!! You all rock!!!! And please don't stop reviewing, it really helps and means a lot!

I decided to split the wedding chapter in two parts so you don't have to wait any longer. It's kind of chopped in the middle now, but I didn't want to wait until January to post a new chapter. I'll be away in London over the holidays, I'm going to see Sean Bean performing at the MacBeth-Show so keep your fingers crossed that he will inspire me for future chapters. ;-)

Thanks to everybody who is still following this story! I hope you will enjoy the wedding.

_Merry Christmas everybody and a happy new year!!!!! _***

She couldn't believe it. In only a moment, she would get married. And she was pregnant with her future husband's child. Despite the fact that she had been prepared and brought up to do exactly this and nothing else, she suddenly felt unsure. Aerilyn felt how her hands were trembling, but she couldn't do anything about it. Although she was looking forward to finally bonding with Boromir, she was scared. Now as they were standing on the platform at the top of the stairs that led to the entrance of the White Tower, she realized the great significance this marriage had not only for their families, but for the people as well. Masses were crowding below them on the huge square and the streets in order to witness the wedding of their captain and future steward. As the daughter of a steward, Aerilyn had attended many large festivities and other huge cultural events in her life, but even she had never seen such a lot of people in one place. And all those pairs of expectant and curious eyes were focused on her and Boromir... 

"If my lady doesn't mind, will she please be so kind and tear her attention from the people so I can take her as my wife, finally?" 

"Yes, I'm... I'm sorry," Aerilyn stammered and turned around to face Boromir who tried to take away some of her nervousness by smiling at her encouragingly. With a cruelly split and bruised lower lip, she noticed, but it was a smile that came from the heart and it comforted her greatly. 

When they had met for the first time today, only a few minutes ago, she had almost not recognized him. He looked so different in these light-coloured garments with all the golden ornaments, the heavy, long and very impressive cape that was draped over his broad shoulders. Aerilyn found that he looked like a king. Glorious, dignified, solemn and handsome. He also looked older, though she didn't know whether that was because of the unusual clothing or because of what he had gone through the past weeks. Only when a short but beautiful fanfare officially opened the ceremony, she tore her gaze from him and tried to concentrate on the speech that was held. 

"People of Gondor, People of Katalla, we all have gathered here today in Minas Tirith to witness and rejoice the union of two hearts and two souls..."

Aerilyn was so nervous that she didn't even get half of the words that everybody was listening to with joy and anticipation. Suddenly she was very aware of the amazingly quiet crowds behind her, she could feel the peoples' presence although they had fallen completely still in order to listen to the speech, and the overwhelming silence gave her goosebumps. Aerilyn swallowed with some effort and shifted her gaze a little to her left, where their families were positioned. When she saw Atalar's face, a soft smile spread over her face. Her brother's cheeks sported bright red blots of excitement and he looked as if he was about to faint every second. It was more than obvious that he didn't feel very well, and the fact that he was forced to stand right next to his father didn't make things better, but when he noticed that Aerilyn was watching him he managed to throw her a broad, reassuring smile. 

Cautious fingertips that stroked over the back of her hand made her turn her head back again, and the moment her gaze caught Boromir's eyes, he gently interlaced his fingers with hers.  He openly showed his affection for her, holding on to her hand and caressing her delicate skin with his thumb, for everyone to see. She never would have expected him to demonstrate anything that emotional in front of his family and his people and for a moment she was so deeply touched by it that she almost missed the end of the speech. 

"Lord Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, and Lady Aerilyn, daughter of Ribensis, Steward of Katalla, step forward and make your pledges." 

Aerilyn still stared at Boromir and only realized what just had been said when her husband to-be carefully squeezed her cold hand and slightly tilted his head, pointing into the direction they were to move. She took a deep breath and let him guide her a few steps, then turned to face him while he took both of her hands in his. And so they stood, looking at and holding tight to each other, in the centre of attention.

Finally, it was time to exchange the vows and legitimize their bond. Aerilyn had the feeling that her knees would give way every second and her mouth was totally dry. She was sure she wouldn't get out a single word, not even a whispered one. She probably would forget everything she wanted to tell him anyway... But when she finally opened her mouth and the first word came out, her speech flowed easily. Her voice was softly trembling, but loud enough for everybody to catch what she was saying.  

"Here I stand in Minas Tirith, the city I will from this very moment on call my beloved home. Here I stand surrounded by the people I will from this very moment on call not only allies, but my brothers, my sisters, my friends. Here I stand in the White City, filled with anticipation of the times that lie in front of us. And here I stand, ardent to bind myself to your empire and to you."

For a slight moment she hesitated. She had spoken the phrases her father had chosen for her to say, and she had not just said it but had actually meant every word of it, but still she had the feeling something was missing. She had to tell him something more personal, with deeper meaning, something that wasn't formed by Ribensis but only by her heart. And so she decided to not think of her father anymore and add a few more words to her original vow. 

"I never knew what true love was or felt like before I met you," she continued, totally wrapped up in the gentle gaze of his deep, green eyes. "And so I give to you my heart and soul, for eternity. I promise that I will never stop loving you but will always worship our bond."

She was relieved when she saw the warm glimmer in his eyes while she said those words. It told her that it hadn't been the wrong decision to speak them out loud. A smile spread on her face as she said the last words that completed her pledge: "Here in Minas Tirith I, Aerilyn, daughter of Ribensis, take you, Boromir, son of Denethor, as my beloved wedded husband." 

Thrilled and excited about the fact that she had spoken the ultimate words, she took one of the sparkling rings from the crimson velvet cushion that was being held next to them, and turned back to Boromir who stood there with a rapidly growing smile upon his noble face. Only when she noticed that the ring in her hand wouldn't even fit Boromir's smallest finger she understood why he was so amused. 

"That's the wrong one," he said gently, low enough that nobody but she could hear it. 

"I'm sorry..." she muttered, cheeks flaming. While she quickly swapped the rings, she heard Boromir chuckle softly what caused her blush to deepen, but thanks to the veil nobody could see it. With trembling fingers, she grasped his large hand and clung to it a little roughly because of her excitement. She felt him squeeze back, softly, and raised her head only to look into a pair of twinkling green eyes that were gazing upon her with love and devotion. 

"Easy now," he whispered, his reassuring smile never fading. "It is all good. You're doing wonderfully." 

A grateful smile on her lips, Aerilyn softened her grip on Boromir's hand and heedfully slipped the right ring on his finger. Even now as she was done with her part of the ceremony, her heartbeats didn't slow down. On the contrary. When Boromir again enclosed her hands in his and started to make his vow, her heart felt as if it was about to burst from her chest. He spoke loud and clear with a strong and steady voice, and he didn't seem to be excited or nervous one single bit. 

"To have you by my side, keeping you secure and safe, is pure bliss to me. To know you in pain or to see you in sorrow is pure torture to me. You awakened new feelings in the heart of a warrior, and for that I thank you. For that I will adore and shelter you for always, and so will my people. I promise to protect and to love you through sickness and health, through war and peace, through times of joy and times of misery. I will cherish and honor you forever and beyond."

His voice didn't betray him, but his eyes spoke volumes when he gently slid the small ring onto her slender finger and spoke the finishing sentence of his vow. "I, Boromir, son of Denethor, take you, Aerilyn, daughter of Ribensis, as my beloved wedded wife." 

They didn't take their deep, affectionate gazes from each other but kept on looking at one another while the ceremony headed towards its end.

"From this moment on, Gondor and Katalla will not only be bonded in battle, but also in blood. In front of all these people who witness this joyful moment, I declare you, Boromir of Gondor and Aerilyn of Katalla, husband and wife. May this union bring forth peace, power, wealth, happiness, and above all, an heir to the stewardship of the united empires. Boromir, Son of Gondor, as a sign of your affection and to seal the promise to always honor and love your wife, you may now kiss the bride." 

Boromir gently pulled his fingers from Aerilyn's loving grip, slowly lifted up the veil and let it fall over the back of her head. He smiled softly when he saw her face that was reddened with excitement and a little moist from a few tears. When he framed her face, taking her glowing cheeks in his palms, he was very careful with the bruised parts of her skin.  

"I hope these are tears of joy," he whispered while he gently wiped the few tears away with his thumbs. She nodded faintly, her lips forming a shy but happy smile, and lay her small, shaky hands on his. She held her breath when he bent down and simultaneously pulled her closer towards himself. When he lowered his lips on hers her eyelids fell closed and the breath she had held made its way out through her nose with a low, content sigh. Her blush deepened when she heard thousands of people cheer, scream and clap, and she quickly clasped her hands to Boromir's arms because she feared that she wouldn't manage to stand upright without support for much longer. Boromir didn't seem to be very impressed by the mass of people who witnessed their first kiss as husband and wife, he even drew her closer and deepened the kiss for a few seconds. When he felt that Aerilyn obviously was a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable with sharing an intense kiss in front of so many people, he broke from her lips with a short, genuine laugh and grabbed her hand with his own, squeezing it tightly. Before she could smile back at him he turned towards the people and raised his free hand to wave, still a wide smile upon his face. His gesture was greeted by even louder cheers and Aerilyn had to laugh too. 

"This is unbelievable," she said when she started to wave too and the people's enthusiastic response caused her beaming smile to grow even wider, lighting up her partly bruised face.

"Wait until we start the parade. It will be earsplitting. Tomorrow we'll be deaf," Boromir replied with a grin. 

"It's worth it," Aerilyn responded happily.

"You speak true words, my lovely wife," Boromir said and once more bowed his head to place another kiss on her smiling lips. Then they strode down the stairs together, heading for the pompously adorned carriage that would take them around the city. The wedding couple would be the head of a huge parade that was going to last for a few hours. The main purpose of this parade was of course to please the people and give them a special event to celebrate and take part in, but Aerilyn was as least as fond of the procedure as the people. She had dreamed of this since she had been a little girl and still couldn't believe it was finally happening. She couldn't help chuckling cheerfully when Boromir helped her to climb into the lovely carriage and people started to throw flowers. Before she sat down she glanced over her shoulder and took in the beautiful picture that confronted her. Right behind them were Faramir and Atalar, both straddling their pretty, strong horses and each carrying the banner of the other's empire. Her parents and Boromir's father were in another carriage, followed by Aragorn, Legolas, Ghorid and a couple of other mounted men. There were also musicians with polished trumpets, shiny flutes and other instruments, and soldiers in their best uniforms. It was a captivating sight. 

When the procession finally started to move, Boromir put an arm around Aerilyn who in response turned her head to look at him with a beaming smile. His sparkling gaze never left her eyes that were so full of joy and devotion when he lifted his other hand and guided it to her hair. He plucked a yellow petal from her raven locks although it was a senseless action. There were flowers and petals raining down on them as they passed the masses of cheering people and within seconds the yellow one was replaced by several lilac and orange petals that had caught in Lyn's curls. The scent of the flowers was everywhere, fresh and sweet, the people's enthusiasm and joy was larger than he had dared to hope, and Aerilyn had never looked more happy and beautiful in Boromir's eyes. If he hadn't felt the burning and itching pain of his healing wounds all over his body and if there hadn't been a war waiting for him this would have been perfect. 

He tried to suppress a sad sigh and again reached out to her, this time in order to gently wipe a pink petal from the corner of Aerilyn's mouth. Before he could touch her face she suddenly moved towards him and the last thing he was aware of was the petal being blown away from the swiftness of her motion. Then there was just the kiss. Aerilyn nestled herself against his body, into Boromir's protective arms that tightly wrapped around her, and kissed him deeply, for all she was worth.

And it _was_ perfect…

Hours later, when they were in the candle-lit and beautifully decorated halls where the royalty and privileged people of Gondor, Katalla and befriended empires as well as soldiers of high ranks and guests of honour were to celebrate today's joyful event, Boromir held his speech. He stood, proud and tall, at the head of the long tables that were arranged in the shape of a horseshoe and every single guest was hanging at his every word. He took Denethor's version of the speech into consideration and used some of his father's phrases, but he refused to just entirely drop his own speech. 

He mainly spoke of better times that lay ahead of them all. He spoke of power and strength, of bravery and honour, of friendship and love. His voice was steady and loud yet comfortable to the ear and he spoke with such passion and dedication that everyone who listened felt himself or herself dragged along with Boromir's enthusiasm. 

In the end he brought the speech round to what had happened in the last weeks, but he didn't allow dejection and dismay to settle over the people. 

"Yes, it was a horrible and underhanded strike of the enemy and it hit us hard, we cannot deny that. But that's all the more reason to stand up, hold together and strike back with all we've got! And we've got a lot, believe me. Our forces aren't overpowered easily when fighting on their own, but now as they are joined our might will be indestructable! We will take revenge soon! We will make them pay for what they tried to do to our alliance! And I promise you, my brothers and sisters, I promise we will succeed! We will conquer! I will lead our empires that are now united as one to victory!"

Boromir's passionate words were greeted with joyful, enthusiastic cheers. 

"I know you all are expecting our troops to start marching in the morning. I'm afraid I have to disappoint you," Boromir continued. He already felt his father's alarmed gaze boring into him but chose to just ignore it. He knew he would get himself into big trouble if he continued with his speech and said what he had in mind, but his father's wrath wouldn't change anything. What else could Denethor do apart from grinning and bearing it, he certainly wouldn't dare interrupt his heir during such a great and important speech. Not in front of so many people. 

"Today was a day of joy and happiness, and I want this night to be even more cheerful. I think I speak for everyone here when I say that it is a lot easier to let go and celebrate madly if you don't have to depart for war the next day and since I want to see _everybody_ dancing, drinking and laughing until the sun rises again we will set out the day _after_ tomorrow. And now…" Boromir took a beautifully decorated goblet of wine that stood in front of him and raised his hand, "I want to propose a toast to the union of our empires. May it give us strength and joy."

"To Lord Boromir and Lady Aerilyn!" somebody shouted and a lot of people repeated the new toast or added phrases like "Long live the Lord and the Lady" or "To the wedding couple". 

Boromir drank with a smile and then said: "Thank you so very much, your happy wishes are much appreciated. And now let's celebrate together. Eat, drink, chat… In short: Enjoy the night!"

Another round of cheers and applause accompanied Boromir when he sat down between Aerilyn and his father. While Lyn beamed at him with a huge, grateful smile Denethor seemed to wrestle with the urge to throttle his eldest son. 

"Don't you think it's the wiser decision to let them rejoice over this night properly before sending them off to war?" Boromir muttered before his father could say anything. 

"My orders were clear, Boromir," Denethor pressed, trying hard to not throw a tantrum in front of his people and the other guests.

 "They deserve a decent feast. I want them to see what they are fighting for. Don't you see my point? If you command them to war tomorrow morning already, this won't be a wedding celebration but a night of farewells and many tears. Is that what you want?" 

"First of all I want a son who obeys me," Denethor snapped. "We are going to discuss this tomorrow in private, not here in front of our guests."

"As you wish," Boromir only said and then turned to Aerilyn who was still beaming at him. 

"I'm overjoyed to hear that you won't leave tomorrow," she said. "I can't believe we'll have one more day together." 

"I'm afraid I won't have much time for you tomorrow, my love," he told her. 

"Oh. I understand," she replied sadly. 

"I will try to spare some time for us to be together," he promised when he saw the huge disappointment in her dark eyes. "Aren't you happy that you can spend some more time with Atalar before we'll go to war?" 

Aerilyn only nodded. 

"Well, let's eat now. The dishes look very promising, don't they?" Boromir tried to cheer her up and she forced herself to smile again. 

"Yes," she agreed. "And it smells terrific, too. Let's see whether the taste can bear comparison."

Soon after the great and unbelievably delicious meal it was time for the opening dance. It was the first time Boromir and Aerilyn danced together and he was pleased that she was easy to lead. She completely adapted to his way of dancing and let him guide her over the huge dance floor in big, elegant circles. Other couples followed quickly and they all began to dance a formation during which the pairs occassionally switched partners. Boromir pressed a quick and loving kiss to Aerilyn's lips just before sending her off into the arms of another male dancer. 

"So, did my brother step on one of your lovely feet yet?" Faramir welcomed her with a warm smile and slid a hand onto her waist. Aerilyn chuckled and put her delicate hand in his.

"No, he didn't," she told her brother-in-law while he swirled her over the dance floor in a less dominant way than Boromir had. Then she turned serious again and looked him right in the eyes when she continued to speak. "Faramir, I haven't forgotten that I accused you of horrible deeds the other day. I owe you an apology and -"

"It's alright, Aerilyn," Faramir interrupted her. 

"I'm so very sorry."

"You were in panic and fear. We all were. Let's just be grateful that the truth was revealed in the end and that you and Boromir are alive." 

Aerilyn nodded in a relieved way. Faramir was just too kind and she was more than happy to have gained such a wonderful brother-in-law. She still had a bad conscience because she had thought that he had been her attacker, but he didn't seem to bear her a grudge for it. They chatted along for a little longer until it again was time to switch dancing partners. Faramir gave her a very tender and chaste kiss on the back of her hand and left her to Atalar. 

"How are you?" he wanted to know while they started to move to the music together. It was relaxing to dance with Atalar since they were more than used to each other's dancing style. Ever since she had reached the age to attend large festivities or dancing balls her brother had been the one to take her to the dance floor. 

"Shouldn't I ask you the same?" she asked with a teasing grin. "You looked as though you were about to faint when Boromir and I exchanged our vows." 

"Well, I have to admit I didn't feel very well that moment. But this single dance makes up for it. I'm feeling much better already." 

"This night we will dance a lot more often than just once," Aerilyn promised and then gave a short squeal when Atalar snatched her tightly into his arms and spun her around so that her feet lost contact with the ground. Somewhat out of breath and still chuckling she then was handed over to Legolas. Lyn had never before danced with an elf and was so excited that she forgot a few steps and softly bumped into the tall, blond male, simultaneously stepping on his foot. 

"My apologies," she said and blushed, but the smile on her face didn't cease. Legolas just smiled back at her and continued to lead her through the dance as if nothing had happened. Aerilyn didn't say any more but enjoyed the dance in silence. She just thought that it was true what they said about the stunning dancing skills of the elven people when she again was confronted with a new partner. 

"Lady Aerilyn," Aragorn greeted her politely and slightly bowed his head before he offered her his left hand and carefully placed the right one on her slender waist. She was very comfortable being near him since he had a calming and peaceful effect on her and quickly relaxed again while they danced. She just wanted to involve the quiet man in a light conversation, when she looked over Aragorn's shoulder and her gaze caught Boromir who was just dancing with the Lady Éowyn of Rohan. Aerilyn couldn't suppress a small gasp and immediately drew Aragorn's concern towards her. 

"Is something wrong, my lady?" the dark man asked in worry. 

"Boromir…" Aerilyn stammered and before she could say more Aragorn turned his head and saw it too. There was a bloodstain on Boromir's back. It was just a small stain, but the bright red was in sharp contrast to the light colour of his garments. Without the slightest hesitation, Aragorn whirled them across the room with a few improvised dancing moves until they were right next to Boromir and Éowyn who both stared at them as if they had gone crazy. 

"Excuse me," Aragorn said to the future Steward in a low voice and let go of Aerilyn's hand. "One of your wounds must have opened. You are bleeding." 

Éowyn's concerned gaze shifted from Aragorn back to Boromir. 

"You better leave and have somebody mend you before anybody sees," she suggested. Boromir nodded while Aragorn lay his hand on Boromir's back to cover the red stain, careful to let it appear as though he was just putting it there in a gesture of friendship. 

"It is nothing," Boromir assured Aerilyn when he saw her worried facial expression. "It just wouldn't be good if everyone saw it. I don't want them to know that I'm still so wounded." 

"We better go, the stain gets bigger quickly. I can hardly cover it with my hand anymore," Aragorn urged. 

"I'll be back with you in a minute, don't fret," Boromir told Aerilyn and then left with Aragorn as discreetly as possible. Aerilyn and Éowyn withdrew to sit down at one of the long tables for a chat, but neither of them had to wait long until they were invited back to the dance floor again. While the Lady of Rohan went with Faramir, Aerilyn followed Legolas who had asked her to give him the pleasure of a dance that lasted for an entire song this time. When she placed her hand in his tender palm for the second time tonight her eyes caught Atalar who sat in the corner of the hall, alone and with a posture that told her he was brooding over something depressing. 

"You get along with my brother very well, don't you?" Aerilyn asked the male elf she was dancing with. 

"I think you could say that," Legolas answered with a small smile. "Why do you ask?" 

"Do you think you could try to cheer him up a little? I'm sorry for bothering you with this, but he seems so miserable and I don't know what to do about it."

"And you believe that I can do something about it?" 

"I wouldn't know anybody else apart from you. Atalar thinks very highly of you and I'm sure he will listen if you go and tell him to not mope the whole evening."

"I'll see what I can do," Legolas promised. "But only if you grant me another dance later this night." 

"Deal accepted," Aerilyn said smiling and hoped that this elf could do something about her brother's sad mood. 

"Why aren't you on the dance floor like everybody else?" Legolas asked Atalar after he had left Aerilyn to Éomer and had walked over to the young man. 

"I don't feel like dancing. And I wouldn't know whom to ask for a dance," Atalar replied downheartedly, staring into the goblet he was holding. Legolas took a long look around the great hall. 

"How about the Lady Éowyn of Rohan?" he finally suggested when his eyes caught the young woman again sitting down at a table and starting to talk to another female guest. Atalar shook his head. 

"No. I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? She is very kind and a joy to dance with."

"I'm sure you're right, but if I'm not terribly mistaken Faramir is more than interested in her. He won't let her out of his sight and she already started to make eyes at him. I really don't want to have Lord Faramir's wrath directed towards me for he surely will get jealous. Besides, Éowyn somehow reminds me of Inunyen. I couldn't bear dancing with her anyhow," Atalar explained sorrowfully. 

"I see," Legolas said softly and squeezed the young human's shoulder. "Do you want to retreat to your chambers? I'm sure your sister will understand that you can't share her joy today. Your grief is still strong and no one will or can possibly expect you to suppress it." 

"No, I'll stay. I will have to pull myself together. I know how important it is for Lyn that I'm here today and I don't want to spoil everything for her," Atalar said determinedly and looked up at Legolas' face.

"Then I suggest you search for the maiden who reminds you least of Inunyen and ask her for a dance," the elf replied.

"Maybe later. I'm going to have another drink first. Join me?" Atalar asked, a little more enthusiasm in his voice. Legolas nodded, a smile gracing his fine features. 

"With pleasure."

*** Stay tuned for part two of the wedding party! (And of course the wedding night… *g*) ***


	22. escalation

*** Oh my God, I'm so sorry I haven't updated for AGES!!!! And now I'm ashamed that I have bad news for you: I _still _didn'tmanage to finish the wedding chapter, I (again!) split it up. But if I didn't do it like this, there wouldn't be an update before christmas in three years or something. I can't believe how busy I am lately. Plus I was really sick for some time. And on vacations. Right now I'm doing my practical time at a publishing company, so I'm afraid I won't be much faster with updating in future. Sorry! I hope you still will continue to read my sporadic updates. 

Anyway! I just wanted to let you know that I had a _great_ time in London, and an even greater time watching Macbeth which was an excellent production with brilliant actors (not only Sean Bean). And believe it or not, we (Chrisi and I, who by the way got to know each other only because she read and reviewed "Assassins", and now we travelled to London together in order to watch a play with Sean Bean, go figure that!) actually met Sean some hours after the show in a pub. If you want to see the autograph he gave me and an embarassing photograph of Sean and me, I put scans on the internet. The links are in my fanfiction.net profile, for anybody who's interested. (Oh, and I'm the little, pale girl on the right who grins like a Cheshire cat…*lol*). In case anybody wonders: Yes, Sean is as nice and polite and funny and easy-going as I hoped he would be. And he smells good too. *g*  

Okay, that was that. And now you all know what I look like. I hope nobody is that disappointed. *L*

On with the story. Here's a little reminder of what happened before (just in case you've forgotten because it's so long ago): Boromir promised Lyn to not talk to her father about the fact that he had hit her. Legolas promised to Lyn to take care of Atalar and try cheering him up a little. He then suggested Atalar should go dancing with a woman who doesn't remind him of Inunyen. Boromir left the wedding party together with Aragorn because he was bleeding on his back. That's where we left off. I hope you enjoy the continuation. 

Yours,

Janina AKA SpaceCowgirl ***

After sitting together with Atalar for quite a while (and noticing with concern that the young lord emptied his drinks with alarming speed), Legolas slowly started to feel a little bored. Atalar wasn't exactly talkative and by now Legolas had run out of ideas to lighten up the young man's mood. Like every other elf Legolas was extremely fond of huge feasts and he wanted to dance with the ladies who were kind enough to accept his invitation and listen to other guests' stories of venturesome journeys and hum along to the happy melodies of the songs that filled the great halls… But he couldn't desert Atalar just like this, leaving him alone to his sorrow. Suppressing a downhearted sigh, Legolas shifted his gaze towards the dance floor and wistfully watched the moving couples.

"I think I found her!" Atalar suddenly blurted out and clutched Legolas' shoulder so abruptly that the elf almost gasped with a start.  

"Who?" Legolas asked wonderingly, quickly regaining his composure, and turned his head to look at Atalar. 

"Somebody I might ask for a dance," Atalar explained.  

"Oh! Where?" Legolas wanted to know and tried his best to not sound too curious. 

"She sits over there."

A smile spread on Legolas' face when he followed Atalar's gaze and saw the woman the young man was talking about. 

"Is something wrong?" Atalar asked and swallowed with effort. He started to feel more than unsure when he noticed the elf's amused facial expression. 

"No, nothing. Go and ask her already. Enjoy yourself a little." 

"I don't know… What if she says no? In front of everybody? I'm only going to make a fool of myself..."

"She won't. Believe me, she won't say no." 

"How can you tell?"

"I just know," Legolas stated, his smile growing wider. "And now hurry or I'll go and ask her for you, in front of everybody else. I bet that would be far more embarassing than asking her yourself." 

Atalar only nodded, took one last sip from his drink and got up from his chair with very mixed feelings. When he had covered more than half of the distance he suddenly wished that he had remained seated next to Legolas but he was too proud to turn round and head back. Only a few more steps and he would stand right next to her… 

Atalar quickly cleared his throat and slightly bowed his head before he raised his voice to speak to the dark-haired maiden who was sitting a bit away from the other guests, all on her own. She was one of the most beautiful women Atalar had ever seen and he was glad that he had bolstered himself a little by drinking some wine before walking over to her. He doubted he would have found the courage to talk to her if he hadn't.  

"Good evening to you, Lady," he greeted her and waited for a reply, but she didn't say a word and just mimicked his respectful nod, a faint smile upon her full, rosy lips.

"Uh... I was wondering what a fair lady like you is doing here in the corner of the halls, all on her own," he explained when he realized that she wouldn't speak. He felt a big lump forming in his throat when she stroked a strand of her long, straight hair back and revealed a delicate, pointed ear. So far Legolas had been the only elf he had ever met. He had neither spoken with nor seen a female one before. 

"The Lady is waiting for her beloved fiancé," the ethereal creature answered, her voice light and melodic to Atalar's ears. It was the most beautiful sound he ever had come across. In fact it was so beautiful that he almost didn't catch the meaning of her words, totally mesmerized by the pretty tone. After a few seconds of staring at her face, he became aware of what she had said and straightened his posture abruptly, sucking in a sudden breath of air. 

"Oh!" he blurted and blushed slightly. "Please forgive my intrusion, then. I don't want to bother you any longer. Have a pleasurable evening, and my regards to your fiancé. He is a very lucky man."

The elven maiden laughed softly about his compliment, causing Atalar to blush even more because he didn't understand what she found so funny about it. 

"Well," she began slowly, "I have been waiting for quite a long time already and actually I am starting to feel bored. You do not bother me, Lord Atalar, please stay if you like."

"You know my name?" he asked, surprised. 

"Of course, you are the brother of tonight's bride. I guess everybody in this room knows who you are."

"May I ask of your name, Lady?"

"You may call me Arwen." 

"A very beautiful name," Atalar said and instantly felt like the clumsiest man in the halls, if not in whole middle-earth. "Would you fancy a dance?" he quickly added before he could continue to make a fool of himself by giving her flat compliments. 

"It will be my pleasure," Arwen replied to his great surprise and gracefully rose from the chair. She was very tall, almost as tall as Atalar was, and looked him straight in the eyes with a curious sparkle. 

"It is an honor to me, Lady Arwen," Atalar responded, a shy smile crossing his face, and offered her his arm to lead her to the dance floor. She accepted with another warm smile and let him pull her with him.   

"How bad is it?" Aerilyn asked even before Boromir had sat down again. He smiled faintly and took the seat next to her, regarding her with a calm expression. 

"How are you feeling? Do you hurt? Are you still bleeding?" she bombarded him with questions and took one of his hands in hers. He didn't wear gloves anymore and she was pleased to feel how warm his hands were. That was usually a good sign. 

"I'm fine, my love," he said gently, "As I said, it is nothing. Just a small injury that opened."

"Why took it so long, then? Aragorn and you have been away for quite some time."

"Well, you surely understand that I had to change my clothes and it took some time to collect a completely new suit apropriate for the occasion."

"I see," Aerilyn said while having a closer look at his garments. He was clad in much darker colours now. They suited him better, but Lyn couldn't stop thinking that he had only chosen them because fresh bloodstains wouldn't be so striking on black and burgundy.

"So, what have you done while I was away?" Boromir asked to distract her from her grave musings. "Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"I have been dancing," she told him with a smile. "With Faramir, Atalar, Legolas, Ghorid, Éomer, -"

"Maybe you should enumerate the men in these halls you _didn't_ dance with yet, I have the feeling that wouldn't take up nearly as much time," Boromir interrupted her and then smiled softly when Aerilyn blushed and quickly shifted her gaze to the floor in embarassment. 

"I'm only jesting," he told her quickly and leaned a little closer. When Aerilyn felt his arm around her shoulders she raised her head to face him again, but had to find out that he wasn't even looking at her. His gaze that suddenly was terrifyingly hard and cold was shooting right through the room. Bewildered, Aerilyn followed her husband's glare and almost gasped when she saw that his eyes were focused on her father who was holding the icy stare with equal hostility. 

"Boromir..." she pleaded, almost whispering, while her heart started pounding like mad. 

"Yes?" he asked, still not looking at her. She felt his hand wrap around the nape of her neck, gently but possessively.   

"What is it?" he added when she didn't say anything and slid his hand up to cup the back of her head. Before she could reply, he bent down a little and placed a long and tender kiss onto her forehead. She knew the kiss wasn't supposed to demonstrate his love or devotion, though she wished it was like that. In this moment Boromir was merely marking his territory, claiming his property, and when Aerilyn shot a discreet look towards her father she saw that it worked. She could tell Ribensis was furious though he tried hard to not let it show. Finally, when Boromir tilted her chin up and moved his lips from her forehead to her mouth, her father turned away, a silent move that confirmed the loss of his authority over his daughter. Just when Boromir withdrew his hand from her chin to cup her cheek instead, intending to prolong the kiss, Aerilyn energetically broke from his rough lips. 

"You can stop now," she said somewhat angrily, "he's not watching anymore."

Not waiting for his reply, she started to turn away from him but he rapidly got hold of her forearm and forced her to face him again. 

"And, more importantly, he won't hurt you anymore," Boromir added. 

"Do you expect me to be at your feet and eternally grateful now? In a way, you're not much better than him," she snapped as she unstoppably flew into a temper. 

"Never would I hit you," he replied, his hand still tightly closed around her arm. 

"But you've already started to enjoy the position of power you have over me. And we were married mere hours ago!"

"Aerilyn, what are you talking about?" he asked, provoked. 

"You obviously see me as your property and you couldn't stand it if you had to share your authority over me."

"I see you as my wife who I will protect from further abuse. I don't see what's wrong with that."

"I asked you to let the whole matter with my father rest and you promised! That is what's wrong with it! I can't believe you are starting with it again, on our wedding day!"

"Would you please calm down and stop ranting like that?!" Boromir hissed. "At times you tend to be a little too hysterical."

"And you, at times, tend to be obsessed with the idea of controlling and outdoing all and everybody!" she replied and rose abruptly, forcing her arm from his grasp. 

"Where are you going?" His question sounded more like a command to sit down again. 

"I'm going to look for Atalar. I don't want to spend the whole evening fighting with you."

"So you're once again running off to him, seeking refuge in his arms like you always do when something is amiss? Maybe you should have married your brother!" Boromir growled. 

"I'm not going to listen to these obnoxious comments of yours! Who do you think you are to talk like that and drag my relationship with my beloved brother into the mud?!" Aerilyn shot back.

"I am the Lord of this realm, here I talk as I please," Boromir replied imperiously. "I think you should ask yourself who _you_ are now, my dear."

"I know who I am."

"Then why don't you behave like it?" he demanded tartly, "I expect you to meet me with befitting respect, adequate cordiality and unwavering affection. I won't settle for less."

"You won't have to. My feelings for you include everything you just mentioned. And more," Lyn stated truthfully, but she couldn't force herself to lapse into a lighter tone again so quickly and the well meant words came out sounding like an insult. 

"Your fondness for Atalar is made of tighter bonds, apparently." Boromir responded, his voice as well as his face still dominated by grimness. 

"Don't you realize how ridiculous your statements are? How dare you reproach me, you of all people who is more in love with his sword and warfare than with his own wife and unborn child!" Lyn raged and then stormed off, leaving Boromir in a flaming temper. He was too proud to go after her although he started to yearn for reconciliation the second she walked away. Instead of catching up with his wife and restoring peace with her, he remained seated for a couple of minutes, brooding over the words she had thrown at him. He actually comprehended her viewpoint and why she had so uncompromisingly persisted on it, but it didn't make him feel any better or help him compose. Boromir needed to let off steam, and when he shifted his sharp gaze across the great hall, his eyes caught somebody he didn't have any inhibitions to vent his anger on. Without hesitance he rose and crossed the beautifully mosaicked floor with determined, long strides until he was so close to his father-in-law that their shoulders almost touched. 

"I need to talk to you," Boromir said firmly, disregarding flowery phrases of politeness and greeting. He had reneged his promise to Aerilyn anyhow, what difference did it make if he took her father to task not only with hostile glares but also with words?

"Very well," Ribensis replied with a very controlled voice and turned his head to look Boromir directly into the eyes. "Talk."

"In private," the younger man announced harshly, holding the hard stare of the other one. Ribensis opened one arm, pointing to one of the great doors of the halls in a slow, wide gesture.

"After you, Lord Boromir," he said calmly but with an icy glint in his dark eyes. Without losing one more word, Boromir headed to the corridor with Steward Ribensis at his heels. He had failed to keep this pledge, but he was going to make the best out of it. Aerilyn's father would never again do her harm once Boromir was done with him, and if this implicated another fierce dispute with her it was a relatively small price for the "settlement" between Ribensis and himself he was striving for. 

"How is Boromir?" Legolas asked Aragorn after the two human men had come back to the halls. Aragorn frowned slightly and threw a questioning gaze at his elven friend but remained silent. 

"His wounds are still ailing him, aren't they? I saw what happened," Legolas explained. Aragorn nodded slowly.

"It is actually worse than it seems, though he refuses to admit it. I wish there was more time for him to recover," he told the elf whose starry eyes were filled with genuine sympathy for their common friend. 

"Have you seen Arwen?" Aragorn asked before Legolas could prolong their conversation about Boromir's well-being. "She wanted to wait for me over there, but her chair is empty." 

"Well, she obviously got bored waiting for you for hours and decided that it is much more fun to go dancing with Atalar..." Legolas replied with a slight grin and nodded towards the dance floor where Arwen and Atalar danced together, beating all other couples in grace and beauty. Aragorn watched silently, his mouth dropping slightly open. 

"They are good, nay?" Legolas asked and then chuckled when he saw the baffled expression on Aragorn's face. 

"Come on, it's only a dance," the elf added amusedly. "Besides, I doubt he would have asked her for a dance if I hadn't talked him into it. I'm afraid you must direct your anger towards me."

Aragorn stared at him in disbelief for a few second but then smiled, too. 

"Well," he stated, "then I'm going to talk him into handing my betrothed over to me and keeping you some company instead." 

Legolas just wanted to object in jest when his eyes caught Atalar and Arwen who all of a sudden stopped dancing in such an abrupt way, that another couple almost bumped into them. Instead of continuing to lead the elven maiden across the dance floor, Atalar turned away from her and skeltered towards one of the exits, his pale face twisted in dolor. 

"Your persuasion won't be necessary anymore," he informed Aragorn without losing trace of the peculiar scene that was happening only a short distance away from them. "Atalar just abandoned Lady Arwen." Legolas' voice was dominated by wonderment and thoughtfulness when he said that, his forehead showing tiny wrinkles of confusion. Since his eyes still followed Atalar who had almost reached the doors by now, he didn't see that Aragorn had started to make his way towards his elven lover. 

Once the young man was out of his sight, Legolas shifted his gaze back to Arwen and found her approaching him with graceful but quick strides. When their eyes met, Legolas' stomach started to churn from the intensity in her glance. Her dark, large eyes were so full of deep sorrow and painful affliction that he almost couldn't bear to hold ger gaze. It wasn't her own pain he saw in her eyes, but agony she lived through because of her great compassion for another… 

His mouth opened a little in trepidation when he saw tears glittering on the brim of her lower eyelids and a split second later this little motion of his face was mirrored in hers as her sensible lips parted as if she wanted to call out to him. But her voice never left her throat since Aragorn reached her just this moment and, apprehensive and protective as he was with his betrothed, carefully drew her into the shelter of his arms. Legolas watched a single tear floating down Arwen's delicate cheek as she closed her eyes and leaned into Aragorn's embrace, accepting the comfort he offered.

When she slowly opened her lids again in order to cast another glance at Legolas, her eyes didn't find him at the place she had seen him mere moments ago. Still resting in Aragorn's strong but gentle arms, her gaze shifted to the large doors just in time to see the blond elf leaving the halls.

~ to be continued ~


	23. drowning

*** Hooray, I made it!! The wedding is done! Here's the last part, and it's _a lot _longer than the first two parts, _and _it includes the wedding night everybody was asking for so insistently. But watch out, it's highly romantic (or corny, *lol*). I hope you enjoy the chapter. ***

"So what do you want to talk about?" Steward Ribensis asked his son-in-law as soon as they were alone, seperated from the celebrating mass of people. He clasped his hands together behind his back while Boromir crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"You know very well what I want to talk about with you," Boromir replied grimly. When the dark-haired man didn't respond and just looked at him with expressionless eyes, Boromir continued, "I just want to set something straight here. If you ever again hit my wife or cause her harm in any other way, I will make you regret it." 

To his growing anger, his father-in-law only smirked insultingly and then said in a low but hostile voice: "Do you seriously think you are in the position to tell me how to treat her correctly?" 

"Absolutely," Boromir replied firmly. "These are my lands." 

"Your father's lands," the Steward corrected him. "You're not even ruling this empire. You are merely the son of the Steward. You are the Captain of your father's armies, you take his commands and execute them. I admit that you do an extraordinarily good job, but it's still only executing commands. You are Denethor's puppet of warfare, nothing more, whereas I am his ally. I'm on the very same level as the man who orders you around. You might not like it, but I am your superior."

"Only because you are my father's closest ally it does not give you the right to bash Aerilyn!" Boromir exclaimed, infuriated. 

"I am her father!" Ribensis snapped, provoked. 

"I am her husband!" Boromir barked back. 

"But only because I was willing to give her to you which wasn't the easiest of choices, believe me! And she is still my daughter and always will be my daughter, no marriage will change that! Nothing will ever -" 

"She carries my child!" Boromir blurted out, interrupting his father-in-law who stared at him, thunderstruck. 

"_What?!_" Ribensis then yelled, his dark eyes flaring up.

"You heard me," Boromir replied. He spoke calmly again, suddenly aware of the significance of what he had just spilled so thoughtlessly, driven by his rage. 

"When?" Ribensis asked, his gaze piercing Boromir. "When did that happen?!" 

"This is not of your concern."

"This is not of my concern?!" the Steward exploded and lunged forward to grab Boromir by his collar. The only few years younger man raised his arms to block the attack, but the impact was too hard and the two crashed against the nearby wall only a second later. "You soiled the virtue of my only daughter and have the effrontery to tell me that this is not of my concern?!"

"You wouldn't even have known of this if I hadn't told you, and I surely didn't tell you because I wanted a lecture on mannerly behaviour before marriage!" Boromir yelled back and pushed against his father-in-law with such an abrupt movement that the slightly older men let go of him and stumbled backwards a little. "I was hoping that if you knew about her current situation you would realize that you are treating her wrong," Boromir explained stiffly, adjusting his distorted collar.  

"Isn't this somewhat insane, you telling me what's the wrong and what's the right thing to do?! You who impregnated my well bred daughter I don't know how many days or even weeks before she was married to you?!"

"Isn't it even more insane to hit your own daughter who is pregnant with your grandchild?! Maybe even your grandson?! Did it occur to you that you could kill your own heir, the heir to your own empire, by beating up Aerilyn?!" 

"I didn't beat her up, I merely -"

"You're not very far from it!" Boromir interupted, reminiscing about Lyn's swollen, bruised face. "It's still very hard to miss the damage you've done! And I swear to you, if you ever touch her again, or if anything happens to my child because of your aggressions, it will be your turn to receive the thrashing!" 

"You wouldn't dare –" Ribensis started, but got silenced by his son-in-law again. This time it was Boromir who took his opponent by the collar and shoved him into the nearest wall. 

"Don't be so sure about it!" Boromir hissed. "I tell you one last time, stay away from my wife! And I advise you to leave Atalar alone, too!" 

"Now this is something that is not of _your _concern!" Ribensis spit out, clutching Boromir's shoulders and pushing back against him until they disconnected from the wall of the corridor again.   

"Aerilyn suffers from what you do to him! She is scared because she believes her own father will eventually beat her brother to death! And Atalar is completely disordered because of your long-term abuse! Don't you see what you're doing to your children?!"

"Atalar has always been the weakest link in our family, it's not my fault he turned out the way he did," Ribensis pressed out. "He's nothing more than an annoying boy who's a disgrace to all of us."

"A disgrace?" Boromir replied angrily. "I don't know Atalar very well, but from what I saw I can tell that he is fair-minded, clever and very thoughtful. Other parents would be grateful to be gifted with a son like Atalar and never dare beat the life out of him! You treat your son worse than a straying dog!"

"He isn't my son!" Ribensis shouted in frenzy. Now it was Boromir's turn to stare at his father-in-law in a totally flabbergasted manner. 

"He isn't… I don't… What?" Boromir stuttered and even let go of Ribensis, still staring at the older man whose hostility seemed to be blown away all of a sudden. 

"You heard right. Atalar is not my son," Ribensis told Boromir and tried hard to hide the tremble of hurt and hate in his voice.  

"But… Atalar and Aerilyn look so much alike…" Boromir muttered, still not capable of digesting the news. 

"They both come after their mother, that's why. They do have different fathers, though. Aerilyn, my little gem, was fathered by me. Atalar is the result of an… unfortunate misconduct of his mother in the early years of our marriage. I assume she felt neglected because I was hardly keeping her company at all. Back then, I'd rather spent my evenings at the training grounds or with my male comrades than with her, which might sound familiar to you, I guess." 

Boromir didn't reply but waited for his father-in-law to continue. 

"Well, when I married my wife, I told her that no matter what happened, I would always love and stick to her. And to that promise I still hold, and I held to it even when she betrayed me. We all make mistakes and everyone deserves a second chance. I forgave my wife and haven't regretted it for one second. It might surprise you, but I'm not the heartless monster you obviously see in me. I love my wife dearly, and also my daughter."  

"And Atalar? Even if he is not of your blood, he grew up in your family. As your son."

"Is it so hard to understand why it is impossible for me to tolerate him? Everytime I look at him, I see the man who had my wife. I see characteristics and physical features that he didn't inherit from my wife, but from that man. And I can't help but hate him for reminding me day by day of what happened twenty-five years in the past. The only reason he was born is because chances were low that my wife would have survived an abortion. I didn't want to risk losing her."  

"Atalar isn't responsible for what happened," Boromir said. "He's not the cause but the victim of these rotten circumstances."

"I know," Ribensis replied quietly, and Boromir saw that the Steward would never be able to change the way he was looking at his wife's son who wasn't his own, even if he knew that he did him wrong. It would be futile to continue to discuss this with him. 

"Does he know?" Boromir asked after some moments of silence. Ribensis shook his head. 

"No, he doesn't. Neither does Aerilyn. And you'd rather not tell any of them." 

"They deserve to know," Boromir stated determinedly. 

"You won't lose a word about this! Aerilyn's world would crumble to pieces if she knew about it. She has a very close link to Atalar."

"I know. But I doubt that their relationship would suffer if they knew the truth. Unlike you, your daughter loves Atalar, and the fact that they don't share their father wouldn't change that."

"How can you tell, you barely know my daughter. I don't want her to suffer depressions because of this. She even could fall ill if she learned the truth, she is very sensitive and emotional, and as you know she isn't in good health right now. She's weakened from the assaults. It would be unwise to tell her." 

Boromir took a breath to reply something, but his father-in-law cut him off. 

"Can't we find a solution we both would feel comfortable with?" he asked. 

"I guess you have a suggestion?" Boromir responded unemotionally. 

"You will forget what I just told you. You won't tell Aerilyn or Atalar, or any other person. And I will restrain my influence on my daughter." 

"Restrain your influence?" Boromir repeated sceptically and cocked an eyebrow.

"I won't attend to her education anymore. I'll leave that to you. That's a very generous offer."

"No, it's not generous," Boromir denied, "But acceptable." 

"We have a deal then?" 

Boromir nodded slowly, not really content with the outcome of the situation, but at least he had achieved what he wanted in the first place. 

Legolas found Atalar in the stables. He was sitting on the floor of one of the empty, dark boxes, head lowered, back leaning against the wall and hands curled into the straw that covered the ground. 

"Atalar, what are you doing here?" the elf asked and stopped right in front of the entrance of the box. The young man didn't respond but brought a hand to his face, obviously to wipe away tears. 

"What happened?" Legolas wanted to know and stepped closer. When Atalar raised his head and revealed blood-shot eyes, the elf squatted down in front of his new-found friend and looked at him questioningly. "Atalar, what happened?" he repeated with growing concern. 

"I don't know," the dark-haired man breathed and sniffed faintly. "It was her."

"It was her?" Legolas repeated in confusion. "What do you mean?" 

"I don't know. I can't describe it. That elven maiden… Arwen. It was as if she suddenly was in my mind. She saw what I felt. She _felt_ what I felt. I could see my own pain in her eyes. Legolas, believe me, I didn't want to do this to her…" 

"You didn't do her harm," Legolas assured him, but Atalar wasn't easily convinced. 

"I made her cry," he whispered, conscience-stricken. "She was hurting."

"Arwen chose this herself because she wanted to help you. She shared your pain willingly, you didn't force it on her. She saw the despair inside of you and tried to lift some of the burdens from your heart by establishing a mental connection with you. Considering the way you affected her, I would say she was successful. How do you feel?" 

"To tell the truth, miserable. It scared me."

"Probably because you're not used to share your grief and accept comfort," Legolas assumed and sat down on the straw too, shifting into a more comfortable position. 

"I think I owe her an apology, after all I just abandoned her on the dance floor. She must think I'm a mannerless, rude brat."

"No, I'm sure she understands. But you should go and talk to her, I bet she is very worried about you," Legolas suggested. 

"Are all of your people like that? All elves, I mean?" Atalar asked and picked up a few straws to twiddle with them. 

"Like what?" Legolas asked. 

"Warmhearted. Devotional. You care for people you don't even know. That's not really common among the people I come from," Atalar explained and the sorrow in his voice indicated the sadness that had kept him company almost all his life. 

"Well, we are a very sensitive and emotional folk. But Lady Arwen is exceptionally empathetic and kindhearted, even amidst my people. She's the fairest and most gracious being I ever had the pleasure to make the acquaintance of," Legolas said earnestly.

"Then I'm honoured that she bestowed her kindliness upon me. And I'm even more embarassed that I was so disrespectful in the end. I hope she will forgive me." 

"I can assure you that resentfulness isn't one of her qualities," Legolas said with a weak smile and was glad to see Atalar smiling back a little. 

"I'm going to talk to her tomorrow after breakfast, if that's possible. I can't go back right now. I'd rather stay here for a little longer."

"Of course," Legolas said. "If this is the place you draw strength and comfort from, you shall stay as long as you wish." 

"I've always been at the stables a lot," Atalar told Legolas and his smile broadened from the memories. "Lyn was in love with our horses. She spent more time currying the horses than any of our yardmen. We held a lot of conversations in those stables, about everything that occupied us, while we were grooming our horses or just sitting on the straw like we do now. I'm going to miss that a lot." With a downhearted sigh, Atalar let the straws fall from his hand back to the ground, following them with his dark, watery eyes. "In the stables life was different than in the fortress, especially at nights when my parents were asleep. It was the only place and time Inunyen and I could be together, more or less. One night we even danced together. That was a long time ago, I can't even remember the occasion of the festivity that was going on that night. All I know is that everyone was celebrating and the music was so loud that it could still be heard at our meeting place in the stables. I just abandoned myself to a spontaneous impulse when I asked her for a dance then, and at first she laughed at me. She wasn't used to dancing, I guess she was actually a little scared and only laughed because she wanted to cover up her insecurity. But eventually she accepted and we danced. I felt her trembling in my arms and she didn't dare look me in the eyes. I didn't know what to do or say to make her feel more comfortable… so I just told her that I loved her. I didn't really think about it, I just blurted it out, and Inunyen looked up, right into my face. I'll never forget the expression in her eyes. She was in shock about my statement. I could see that she was nearly crying and it ripped my heart to pieces to see her like this. I repeated my clumsy declaration of love to her, but that only caused her tears to spill over. Can you imagine that? Inunyen crying?" Despite his grief Atalar couldn't help smiling faintly and Legolas returned the soft smile with warmth and sympathy in his gentle gaze, but he didn't say anything since he didn't want to interrupt Atalar's thoughts and memories. 

"She clung to me while she cried her heart out and I murmured oaths of eternal love, again and again, until she somewhat calmed down," Atalar continued with a low voice. "And then… I kissed her for the first time. We ended up sharing a lot more than just this one kiss that night, and I wish I could tell you that it was romantic and slow-going, but it wasn't. We were both too scared of the consequences that were waiting for us if we would be discovered in a situation like this, that's why it was a short-lived encounter. It was very hurried and somewhat untender, at a not so comfortable but rather cold location, but it was what we both had waited and yearned for for a long time. We were together and that was everything we wanted. I only wish I would have had the chance to show her that it could be different. I wish I would have found a way to treat her with the endearment and cautiousness she deserved." 

"You can't turn back time, Atalar. You should treasure and cherish those moments that came your way, and not blame yourself for not taking a different path," Legolas said softly. 

"But I can't stop wondering what could have been if I had stood by her from the beginning. Or if I had asked her to go away with me much earlier. Nothing of this would have happened. Lyn wouldn't have nearly died, Boromir wouldn't have undergone imprisonment and torture, and Inunyen would still live. If only I hadn't been such a coward."

"Stop it now, Atalar. It's senseless to put all the blame on yourself, because it's not true that everything that happened was your fault, and you know that," Legolas insisted. "You don't know what would have happened if you behaved differently. Maybe it would not have changed a thing. You can't tell and you will never know. You have to accept what happened and the way it happened and go on with your life. It's far too precious to waste it with useless considerations about unalterable events."

"I don't think it's useless to bear Inunyen in remembrance," Atalar snapped, hurt. 

"That's not what I meant. Not at all. I only fear that you're slowly drowning in self-accusation and self-pity."

"Have you ever lost somebody you loved so much that you thought you couldn't go on without her? That you wanted to die yourself when she passed away?" Atalar asked, his voice starting to crack. 

"No," Legolas answered quietly. 

"I thought so. You would speak differently if this ever happened to you."

"No, I wouldn't speak at all if this ever happened to me. I would be dead," Legolas replied matter-of-factly. When he saw that Atalar didn't understand, he added, "Elves can actually die of a broken heart. If our beloved one dies, most of us are fated to eventually pine away. But you are human, and life will go on for you. Don't toss away what possibilities fate gave you. You have no idea how extraordinary a gift it is to be able to overcome the greatest of possible grieves." 

"I'd be more than grateful if it was possible for us to swap places. I envy you and your people," Atalar said and rose to his feet. "I'll go back to the halls. All the talking made me thirsty," he added and was gone before Legolas could say any more. 

Once back at the great hall, Boromir spent the evening with watching Aerilyn who did her best to ignore him completely. She sat across the room with Atalar who seemed a little absent, most of the time he was staring into the goblet of wine that was in front of him, and when he wasn't staring, he was drinking. Hours elapsed and she didn't even throw one single glance towards her husband who felt more and more miserable with every passing minute. Finally, it seemed that Atalar and Aerilyn had some sort of disagreement as Boromir could see them talking to each other in an agitated manner, until Atalar stood up and retreated to another corner of the hall, leaving his sister behind at the table they had been sitting at. Boromir knew that he wouldn't get a better oportunity to talk to her alone and quickly rose from his chair to cross the room. When he saw his wife rising as well and walking away in an oposite direction he picked up pace but lost sight of her when she left the room. He followed past the door she had exited through and finally found her on one of the balconies. When Boromir stepped outside to her, she stood with her back to him, her hands on the balustrade, gazing over the city that lay to her feet. 

"Do you want to ignore and run away from me for the rest of the night?" Boromir asked as he came closer. He considered stepping right behind her and offering reconciliation just by taking her in his arms without anymore words, but then decided to come to a halt at some distance. He still couldn't predict how she would react and didn't want to make things worse. 

"What do you want?" she suddenly asked. Her voice was firm, but low as she spoke. He could see that her hands clutched the balustrade a little too hard. 

"I've come to offer armistice," Boromir told her quietly and waited for her reaction. When she gave one, it wasn't at all what he had expected. 

"I had a dispute with Atalar," she told him, still not turning around. Her voice was rather monotone and he had difficulties guessing her emotions without seeing her face. 

"I know, I've seen you quarreling," Boromir told her and then asked carefully, "What happened?" 

"I told him that he drinks too much and he got really enraged. But I'm only concerned about him. I think he tries to drown his pain with alcohol, but it won't work. He's only going to suffer even more from it." At last she turned around and when Boromir saw the desperate expression on her face he was by her side with three quick strides and without hesitance drew her into a tight embrace. She didn't reject him but leaned against him and sighed deeply.

"I don't know what to do," she murmured against his chest. 

"Maybe it would be best to just leave your brother alone for some time. He needs to come to terms with a lot of things and I have the feeling that's something he should do on his own. I doubt that he will do something foolhardy. He eventually will get over it, but it takes time," Boromir said, slowly stroking her back. 

"You're probably right," Lyn replied. "So… what exactly are your offers?"

"Offers, my Lady?" Boromir asked. 

"You said something about armistice. You will need to provide a little more than just extending the white flag," Aerilyn pointed out and backed away a bit to look up at him with a wry smile. 

"Can I think about it for a moment?" Boromir wanted to know. 

"No. I have a better idea."

"Do you?"

"Yes," she nodded determinedly, "Instead of waiting for you to come up with something acceptable, I simply tell you what I want."

Boromir couldn't supress a small snicker and said, "Your armistice negotiations would be very much of my liking, if I wasn't the losing party."

A smile spread over Aerilyn's face as she said, "I assure you that after my negotiations, each party will be beneficiary." 

"Sounds good," Boromir said in a low voice, raised a hand to her face in order to cup her cheek and placed a light, heedful kiss on her lips. She didn't back away or protest. 

"I take this as an armistice acceptance," he said, almost questioned, his mouth only inches from hers that curved up in a lovely smile. Instead of replying anything, she simply returned the kiss with more pressure and wound her hands into his hair to hold him close. Boromir wondered why it had taken so long for them to make up again, and why he hadn't tried to take the first step much earlier, but in the end he was just glad that their quarrel was forgotten and the peace between them was restored. 

They went back to the hall side by side, but didn't stay long. Soon they decided that it was time to retreat to their private chambers. They took separate tours around the great room to talk to several guests for one last time in order to thank them and bid them farewell. Aerilyn avoided Atalar as long as possible, but at last he was the only one left of the people she wanted to wish a good night. With mixed feelings she approached and then greeted him, but he didn't show any reaction. Aerilyn waited for some more moments, but he didn't even look up at her. 

"Well then… good night. I'm leaving," she said gloomily and wanted to turn away, but suddenly her brother jumped to his feet, causing her to face him again.   

"Lyn... wait," Atalar whispered and softly grabbed her slender upper arm to draw her closer.

"Oh, Atalar!" she sighed in disgust and turned her face away. "How much did you drink? You smell like -"

"Lyn, please," he interrupted her and ran a hand through her hair, clumsily brushing off some of the delicate decorations. "I want to tell you something. Something important."

"Is something wrong?" she asked wonderingly when she saw the more than concerned gaze in his dark eyes. 

"My little Lyn..." he murmured softly and brought his second hand up to her head to cup her soft cheek.

"Atalar... What is it? You behave oddly tonight," Aerilyn said. 

"I only wanted to tell you that..." He sighed slowly and leaned against the wall that was right next to them to keep his balance.

"What, Atalar?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to yell at you like that."

"It's alright. I'm not angry with you," Aerilyn assured him and smiled. "Good night, Atalar."

"That wasn't everything. There's something else I want to tell you," Atalar said but didn't speak on. 

"Make your point, brother," Lyn urged him, getting a little impatient. "Boromir is waiting for me." 

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," Atalar bubbled out, obviously grateful that he didn't have to start on the topic. "I want you to know that you don't need to do anything you don't want to." 

A little smile spread on her face when she realized where their conversation was going to.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Atalar asked, causing her smile to grow even wider. "If he does anything that causes you pain, that rough lout..."

"Hush, Atalar, he won't," she assured him.

"I just want you to know that you don't need to do everything he wants or tolerate everything he wants to do to you, only because you are married to him now. If he gets rude or something, just tell me and I will make sure he'll regret it." 

"You are so cute, thank you," she said and gave him a soft kiss on his heated cheek. 

"Lyn, please, I'm deadly serious about this," he poured and grabbed her wrist in clumsy haste. The sudden seriousness in his voice let her smile fade away slowly. 

"Do not fret, brother," she said softly and gently caressed his cheek that was hot and reddened from all the alcohol he had drunk this night.

"How could I not?" he asked. "How could I not worry about this after what happened to you? After what those bastards did to you?"

Aerilyn's brows furrowed and she gently shook her head in confusion. "I do not understand, Atalar..."

"I know they violated you," he whispered. "They… misused your body to satisfy their sick desires."

"No!" she said, shocked, and framed his face with both hands. "Nobody did something like this to me." 

"But you were completely undressed when we found you," he breathed, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Oh, Atalar…" She moved closer to hug him tightly and felt him pressing his face into her hair. "You are terribly mistaken. Nobody took advantage of me in such a horrible way." 

"Is that true?" he asked into her hair, his voice faint and a little shaky. She was so sorry for he must have plagued himself with these gruesome visions of several men raping her brutally, and decided that she owed him an explanation and the truth about the day of the assault. 

"Yes. I would never lie to you, you know that. And the reason why I was undressed when you found me…" 

Before she could finish her sentence, Atalar pulled back to look her in the eyes again. Aerilyn swallowed nervously but continued after a short pause.

"Boromir had made love to me shortly before the assault took place," Aerilyn told him truthfully. "That's why I was naked. It was him who undressed me, not the assassins."

There was a long moment of silence between them and Aerilyn already feared that Atalar was so drunk that he didn't understand the meaning of her words and would faint any second, or that he woul get angry about her revelation, but then he took a deep breath and asked: "Was he gentle with you? And careful?" 

"Yes, he was. I... enjoyed it."  She blushed at her last words but doubted that he noticed. 

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. And relieved," Atalar said, surprising her with a genuine smile. "I was worried to death."

"You are always too worried and somewhat overprotective. There's no need for so much concern anymore," Aerilyn told him and smiled back. "After all we are here, safe and alive, arent't we? Although I doubt you'll survive the night if you keep on drinking like this."

They both chuckled and the blush on Atalar's cheeks even deepened a little. 

"You better leave now," he said, still grinning. "Don't let your husband wait for much longer." 

"Thanks, Atalar, you are the best big brother a girl could wish for" she said and pushed herself on her tiptoes to place another quick kiss on his cheek. "And don't overdo it with drinking."

"Now who's overprotective and worried?" he asked teasingly, but Lyn just rolled with her eyes. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, dear brother," were her last words and then she was gone. Atalar sighed and turned around to the hall again. Although it was very well past midnight, there were still a lot of couples dancing and many people eating and chatting, but he couldn't make out any faces. His sight became blurrier and blurrier, but he was sure he could still see enough to find something decent to drink. 

"Don't you think you had enough for tonight?" a soft voice asked from his left when he minutes later poured himself another goblet of wine. Atalar's head snapped to the side where the familiar voice had come from and he needed some time to focus on the face that was next to him. 

"No, I don't think so," Atalar said slowly, concentrating hard on getting the words out in the right order. 

"That's probably because you can't think straight anymore," Legolas pointed out. "You can't even walk properly. Or stand upright without aid." 

"Don't you have something better to do than bother me?" the young human snapped and took another sip from his drink. "For example… stroll through the halls and look pretty or something like that?"

"Why are you so hostile?" 

"I'm not hostile. I just want to be left alone."

"As you wish," Legolas said stiffly and a little hurt and left as quietly as he had appeared.

About half an hour and several drinks later, Atalar suddenly felt an awkwardly strong tiredness come over him. His legs almost buckled when he got up from the chair he had been sprawled over during the later hours of the night, but somehow he managed to keep his balance. Slowly, he made his way to the exit of the hall, one hand permanently gliding over the nearby wall for support. When he staggered along the first long corridor, Legolas caught up with him and took hold of his elbow. 

"Do you need any help getting to your chambers?" Legolas asked, honestly concerned. He backed away a little when Atalar ripped his arm free from his gentle grip. The young man almost tripped over from the abrupt movement but managed to keep on his legs.

"You are worse than any of my nursemaids have been when I was a little boy! I slowly get the impression that you're trying to foster me!" Atalar hissed, slightly swaying back and forth as he tried to regain his balance.

"Sometimes I get the impression that you still _are_ a little boy that's in need of proper fostering!" Legolas shot back a little angrily and again grasped Atalar, this time at his upper arm. 

"I can walk on my own!" Atalar exclaimed and tore himself free clumsily but with quite some strength, then made a few uncoordinated steps only to slump forward to his hands and knees. With a sigh, Legolas squatted down in front of him. 

"Did you hurt yourself?" the elf wanted to know. 

"No... no, I'm fine, I just... I..."  

Before he could speak further, Atalar felt an overwhelming wave of nausea washing up his body but couldn't bring himself to react to it in any way. He couldn't coordinate his motions, he couldn't even get his tongue to form words. His body just wasn't obeying him anymore. The last thing he was aware of were deft, strong hands pulling him up and then the purely beautiful scent that seemed to emanate from all ethereal beings as his head dropped onto Legolas' shoulder, his face coming to rest in the softness of the elf's silken hair. 

"What a pretty bride she was," Arwen sighed, pulling the decorations from her hair with graceful, fluid movements. "Boromir is a lucky man." 

Aragorn turned around to face her, a smile crossing his rugged face. Arwen returned his stare and raised a delicate eyebrow, silently inviting him to speak out loud what he was thinking. 

"He is by far not as lucky as I am," Aragorn stated, causing Arwen to smile amusedly. 

"You always have been good at sweet-talking me, Estel," she said teasingly and turned back to the huge mirror. While starting to brush her long hair, her head slightly tilted to the left, she turned serious again. Aragorn, who wasn't oblivious to his betrothed's thoughts drifting away, could no longer hold back the question that was nagging at him ever since he had come back to the halls after Boromir's injury had opened.

"Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Lord Atalar?" he asked calmly, regarding Arwen with gray, gentle eyes. 

Some moments of silence passed until she opened her mouth and said, "I'd prefer to think about it for a little longer, I can't put into words yet what we shared."

"I understand," Aragorn replied. "But will you tell me how you fare and ease my concern?" 

"Don't burden yourself with needless worries, my love. I am fine."

"You were crying," the dark-haired man pointed out. 

"Yes, I was. His heart suffers from so much pain and desperation. The intensity took me by surprise," Arwen explained. "He's a very emotional person." 

"Is he?" Aragorn said a little stiffly. 

"Yes, he is. He tries hard to hide his emotions, but it's easy to break through to him. It was… extraordinary," Arwen said, faintly smiling at the uncommon tone in his usually well-balanced voice. She raised her eyes and observed Aragorn through the mirror, her smile growing wider when she captured the expression that showed bluntly on his face. 

"Don't tell me you're jealous, Estel!" she exclaimed and almost laughed out loud. 

"Well, what do you expect? I find you dancing with another man and afterwards have to listen to you telling me how extraordinary he is," Aragorn said but couldn't suppress the tiny smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, because it is the truth. I felt that Atalar is special the second I lay my eyes on him, even before he spoke to me. He's a kind person and his spirit is pure and genuine. But it is also the truth that it is silly of you to be jealous. Don't you agree?"

"How could I ever contradict you, my heart?" Aragorn asked as he stepped closer to her. "Let me do this for you," he added in a low voice, softly took the brush from her slender hand and started to carefully smoothen her hair with it. They stood for a while, silently, until they both raised their heads the very same second, their gazes meeting in the mirror. 

"There is no reason for being jealous. I love you, Aragorn. Only you," Arwen whispered, not leaving his gray eyes.

"And I love you," he whispered back, shoved her long hair aside and bowed his head to press a loving kiss to her exposed, bare neck. 

"Yes. So much that you won't marry me," she said ironically in a low, somewhat frustrated voice.

"Arwen..." he sighed, continuing to kiss and nibble on her silky skin, his stubble scratching her lightly. "I _will_ marry you, one day. You know there is nothing I'd rather do. But the time isn't ripe. I want Boromir to -"

"- to crown you after he became the ruling Steward of Gondor, I know. You made a promise to Boromir and to that you will stick. And I understand your motives. I just hope you won't forget the promise you once gave to me."

"No, never would or could I forget this pledge. You have my word, like you already have my heart," Aragorn whispered against her skin. He let the brush fall to the ground and snaked his strong arms around her slim figure while she savored the caresses of his tongue and lips against her sensitive neck. When he opened his eyes for a short moment he saw in the mirror that her eyes were closed and her full lips slightly parted in sensual pleasure. This only encouraged him to proceed, and when he ran his rough hands up her body, gently squeezing and massaging every spot he came across, Arwen turned in his hug and rewarded him with an openmouthed, deep kiss that made his senses go hazy. After a long moment of soft and gentle kissing she withdrew slowly, leaving him panting, his chest heaving against her with rapid motions. 

"Love me, Aragorn," she whispered almost inaudibly and placed another kiss on his heated lips, an almost shy one this time. "I desire to feel you. All of you. Your hands, your arms, your lips... your everything."

Her enticing words made a tiny sound of anticipation escape from his throat and she sighed contently when he lifted her up in his arms in order to carry her across the room. Very gently he lowered her on her back, bedding her adorable body onto heaps of soft, precious blankets, and crawled over her on all fours. 

"Aragorn. Estel. My beloved," Arwen's sweet voice purred through the night just before she was silenced in a most enjoyable way. Aragorn plunged down into the kiss, his slightly parted mouth connecting with Arwen's unbelievably soft lips in flaring passion, and they began to make love, their heated bodies moving against and with one another in perfect unison. 

"So this is where you sleep," Aerilyn said after entering a beautifully furnished room that was pretty cosy despite its impressive size. 

"Yes," Boromir said and smiled when he realized that she had never before been in any of his rooms. 

"And you too, from now on," he added while lighting a few candles. "I hope everything meets your demands." 

"Yes, it's more than sufficient," Aerilyn replied and sat down on the edge of the large bed. She carefully ran her hands over the light, fresh sheets, feeling the precious material soft and smooth against her fingers. 

"If you want anything changed just say a word and you shall have your wish," he told her. 

_After all she is going to spend far more nights in this room than I_, he thought, but didn't speak it out loud. He felt a painful glimpse of sorrow and guilt well up inside of him when he thought of the many lonely nights that were waiting for her. The many tears she would surely shed because he again left her alone. He also had to think of what happened to Aerilyn's parents because of her father's neglect of his wife, but forced himself to cast this thought asideSuppresing a small sigh, he stepped closer to his, or now _their_ bed. 

"No, I like it. It's beautiful," Aerilyn said, staring up at him with big, dark eyes that revealed her joyful excitement. "And besides, I wouldn't mind sleeping out on the streets as long as I have you to warm me."

He offered her his open palm and gently dragged her up again after she had lain her small hand in his. Silently, he lifted his other hand and she closed her eyes when it came to rest on the back of her head. 

"I didn't mean what I said earlier," he whispered and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "It's inappropriate for a husband to be jealous of his brother-in-law. You love Atalar greatly and this is the way it should be. I don't want to be a disturbing factor when it comes to the relationship you share with your brother. I don't want to be a disturbing factor at all in your life." 

Aerilyn opened her eyes and regarded her husband with such a tender expression in her eyes that a soft smile curved his lips. 

"You aren't a disturbing factor," she told him. "You are my husband and the father of my child and I love you more than anything."

"Are you tired?" he asked softly while he dove the fingers of his right hand into her full hair and started to gently massage her scalp. 

"A little," she murmured and then made a low sound of contentedness. "Mmmh, that feels nice..."

"Do you want to go to bed and rest?" 

Her eyes opened lazily and the meaningful expression in her eyes made his pulse quicken up. He unawarely held his breath while waiting for her answer and it seemed like an eternity to him until her tantalizing lips parted and she whispered: "I'd like to go to bed indeed. But not for taking a rest."

"Oh, well," Boromir said in a low, deep voice and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, "I think I know something else we could do in that bed."

"What could that possibly be, I wonder?" she asked, smiling, and closed her eyes again to cherish the feel of his lips against her skin. 

"I think I should make love to you for all I'm worth, despite the fact that you seem to be expectant already." He gently kissed both of her eyelids and then the tip of her small nose. "I mean, just to be on the safe side."

"You accomplish your duties very thoroughly, my dear husband," Aerilyn said teasingly, her smile growing wider.

"Yes, especially if it is a duty of such importance," Boromir replied and smiled back, mischievously. "You see, I don't want to disappoint my people." 

"Nor do I," she whispered back, flung her arms around his neck to draw his face towards hers and pressed her mouth upon his yearningly. Surprised but pleased by her passionate approach, he slid his hands around her slender body and quickly started to fumble with the laces and clasps on the back of her wedding dress. Soon he had to admit that it was impossible for him to open, especially with the hot kisses distracting him. 

"Who did make this cursed dress?" Boromir asked frustrated. "Atalar?" 

Aerilyn chuckled softly while he turned her around so he could see what exactly his fingers were fighting with.

"Good Lord! Methinks I need my sword to get you out of there!" he exclaimed when he examined the tight laces on her back more thoroughly. "It's a mystery to me how you can possibly move and breathe with this dress on." 

"Now you see how much I'm torturing myself only to look pretty for you and your people," Aerilyn said. 

"You look stunningly beautiful tonight I have to say, but that's not only because of this dress that leaves you no room to breathe properly," Boromir murmured while he finally managed to expose a tiny bit of her silky skin. "On the contrary. I'm sure you'd look all the more prettier without it."

"I wouldn't be particularly sad to get rid of it, either," she pointed out while he bent down to brush a kiss on the bare spot of her back he had just revealed with massive efforts. She felt him smiling against her, then a tiny warm breeze when he breathed out and finally his hot, moist tongue gently touching her sensitive skin. A soft, well-pleased noise slipped from her mouth and one of her hands swung back, groping for Boromir's body. She caught him by his outer thigh and held to him tightly as if she was afraid that he would let go of her again if she didn't. He continued to kiss and lick the nape of her neck and her upper back, simultaneously tugging at the taut laces and opening complicated knots and clasps, and soon her hand started to wander on him. Aerilyn felt her way up the outer side of his thigh until she reached his hip, then travelled back down again only to let her flat hand glide to the inner side of his leg. She was very aware of the changes in Boromir's breathing fashion when she again let her hand glide up, only this time on his inner thigh. A tiny, restrained groan vibrated over the spot of her skin his mouth was still fastened to when she finally reached the sensitive hardness that had emerged in his trousers. Curiously, she stroked him a little harder and with a little smile noticed how his breathing hitched. 

With his lips still lingering on her warm skin Boromir suddenly ripped her dress further open, tearing the precious fabric apart with a brusque movement. Slowly he got more than impatient about the situation. Aerilyn jerked slightly because of his energetic action, but did not say a word since he turned gentle again quickly. He felt her shudder when the tip of his tongue followed the line of her spinal column, starting off low between her delicate shoulder blades and going up to the back of her neck where he then gently nibbled at her skin, feeling the tender hair of hers tickling his lips. Her heavenly scent made his senses go hazy, and her taste was even more stimulating. He continued to kiss and suck on her neck while he slowly peeled the dress from her small body. When her clothes finally fell to the ground he moved his head to kiss her delicate shoulders and his hands carefully slid over her naked belly. Her hand was still on his crotch but didn't move anymore as she was fully concentrating on his motions now. He caressed her for some moments, her soft stomach, der round hips, her slim waist and her sides, until he guided his hands further up her body. He was aiming for her breasts, but before he could reach his goal she quickly twisted in his embrace and pressed her front against his body. While his warm hands came to rest on the small, soft swell of her bare bottom she stretched and pushed herself on her tiptoes, but still he had to bow his head down to make it possible for her to reach his mouth. 

"I wish I was taller," she whispered and smiled against his lips. 

"No, I love you just the way you are," he replied while he slid one hand back to the small of her back. 

"Of course you do. You probably like the idea that I never will be able to snatch a kiss from you without your permission and aid.  I always will be dependent on your generosity on this matter."

"Oh, I think I will be _very_ generous when it comes to subjects like this one," he replied and kissed her again as if to prove his words. Aerilyn laughed and broke from his lips.

"As if it wasn't for your own benefit!" she said and grinned. 

"Then let me do something for mainly _your_ benefit now..." Boromir replied with a  meaningful tone in his voice, easily lifted her naked form out of the pile of clothes and carried her to the bed. He held her light body tightly drawn against himself and he felt her heart pounding heavily against his own chest although he still was fully dressed. He carefully lowered her onto the soft, fresh sheets and bent down to kiss her belly while his hands explored the delicate skin of her inner thighs, gently spreading her legs apart so he could lower himself inbetween. For a moment his mind was occupied by the baby that was developing in her womb. It was growing this very moment, while they lay together in the night of their wedding. The thought of his yet unborn child made him happy and proud, causing him to kiss and caress Aerilyn's belly for some tender moments. Then he worked his way further up and noticed that she had crossed her arms in front of her chest. He sat up wonderingly, slid his hands down her sides and let them linger on her hips, gently massaging her warm skin.

"Remove your arms," he said softly. 

Aerilyn shifted her gaze towards the candles that were on a table nearby the bed, but Boromir tenderly grabbed her chin and forced her to face him again. 

"No," he said and slowly shook his head, "I want to look at you." 

She batted down her eyelids and didn't respond. 

"What bothers you, Aerilyn?" he asked and ran his hands up her sides again until he felt her ribs under his fingers. She had lost quite some weight since the assault had taken place, and her body that had been so very slender anyway was now far too thin. She still was beautiful, but she slowly started to look weak and ill. He almost feared that she would break if he embraced her too enthusiastically. He had to make sure she would eat more properly from today on, especially now as she had to eat for two. 

"Why are you shielding yourself from my eyes? You didn't do so when we made love for the first time," he added and looked at her with dismay and concern.

"I wasn't disfigured back in those days," she whispered. 

"What?" Boromir asked and almost had to laugh, so absurd were her words to him. 

"I'm serious," she said and looked at him with sad eyes. "I feel uncomfortable when you look at me."

"There is no need to feel uncomfortable," Boromir said. "I love you. To me, you are the most beautiful being that dwells upon Middle-Earth."

He closed his fingers around her wrists and gently pulled her arms from her chest. He felt that she wanted to protest, but she didn't do it and only closed her eyes in embarassment while he heedfully pinned her arms down to the bed next to her sides, simultaneously crouching over her on all fours. 

"The most beautiful being ever," Boromir whispered and lifted one of his hands to her body to gently touch her revealed skin. He drew half a circle with the tip of his finger, following the pleasing outer curve of her left breast, then slid further up to the exquisite peak where he lingered for a moment, watching the rosy nipple stiffen under his gentle touch, until he let his hand glide down again to the beautiful valley that lay between her breasts. When he carefully ran a finger over the scar that would always remind them of the assault, her free hand shot to his forearm and pushed him away abruptly. 

"Don't," she said, her eyes open again. He discovered tears and despair in her eyes and it made his heart shatter to pieces to see her like this. He sat back on his heels, softly grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, making her wrap her legs around his waist. Their faces were only inches apart and Boromir had to pull himself together to not lean forwards and simply kiss her fierily. 

"Aerilyn..." he began and sighed faintly when she shifted her gaze down again. "Please look at me."

She obeyed and he saw the desperation in her dark eyes. They were so close that her belly softly pushed against his own every time she breathed nervous, shivering intakes of air, and the heat of her lap came through the fabric of his clothes that were the last and only barrier between the bareness of their skins. 

"Listen, Aerilyn," he started again, his voice expressing nothing but pure affection and honesty. "When you look at yourself, you perhaps see only this scar and believe it made you ugly. But that is nonsense. Let me tell you what I see when I look at you. I don't see a displeasing scar, but the prettiest woman who ever crossed my eyes. I see the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I see the woman who bears my child. The woman I love unconditionally with everything I have to offer, everything I am. And nothing could ever change that. No scars, no disputes, no disease... _Nothing_. Absolutely nothing."

"I was so afraid that it would repel you," Aerilyn breathed. A tear escaped from her eye and made its way over her face, leaving a glimmering, moist line behind. Boromir bent forwards and captured the salty droplet with his lips. 

"No," he whispered against her glowing cheek and placed, gently sucking, a tender kiss on her soft skin. "Never think anything like that again." 

He felt her embracing him tightly and pulling him closer to her body. He turned his face towards hers and their mouths met automatically, locking into a deep and loving kiss. While his large hands ran up and down her bare back, stopping for a moment to softly massage her slender shoulders and then again trail deeper down until he reached the beginning of her smooth buttocks. She breathed faster and deeper than before, but Boromir didn't dare press on, no matter how hard he wanted their bodies to unify. He didn't want to urge her but wanted her to decide on the pace and intensity of tonight's encounter. Considering the almost unendurable condition the lower regions of his body were in, he was more than grateful when Aerilyn showed that she was eager for more intimate contact.

Hastily, she opened the buttons and clasps of his magnificent wardrobe, never disconnecting from his lips that were bruising hers so hungrily. While her hands slid underneath his clothes, snaking through openings she had just created, his hands retreated from her buttocks so he could free himself from all layers of clothes that covered the upper part of his body. She placed both of her hands on his broad chest and her eyes shot open when his skin didn't feel the way she had expected. She backed away a bit to look at him, and she had to swallow back a horrified sob of shock and affliction when her gaze  ranged over his body. 

Suddenly she felt stupid and selfish. How could she cry about one single scar, how could she tell him she thought he would be repelled by it, when at the same time his body was covered with far worse marks of torture and pain than just a little healing scar from a single stab? She held her breath and carefully let her hand glide over his heavily bruised abdomen, his harmed ribcage, his violated chest and shoulders. She felt the unfamiliar irregularities of swellings and the rough scabbed surfaces of not so old wounds underneath her shivering fingers as well as thick and raspy scars of lacerations whose stitches hadn't been taken out again yet and the fabric-like surfaces of some bandages. As she touched him her eyes filled with tears and she raised her head again to look at his face.

"What did they do to you?" she whispered, her voice full of pain and horror, yet so soft and weak that he had trouble understanding what she was saying. "How could they?"

The tears started to fall when she imagined how the abductors must have tortured him to leave marks like these. 

"Don't cry, my sweet one, it is over now," Boromir tried to calm her down and drew her into a protecting embrace. She hesitated to nestle against him and her body stiffened in his arms.

"I don't want to hurt you," Aerilyn explained and carefully kissed Boromir's collarbone, her tears splashing on his bare shoulder. He smiled faintly and kissed the top of her head. 

"You won't hurt me. You never could. Your touch will never cause me pain. Only alleviation." He tilted her face up to resume the deep kisses they had started to share before the sensual atmosphere had been disrupted by the revelation of the whole extent of the tortures he had gone through. Aerilyn was reluctant to abandon herself to the passion he offered. 

"Promise me that you will tell me if I hurt you," she whispered against his lips, not opening her eyes while she spoke. 

"I promise," he whispered back and kissed her again, and this time she seemed to melt into him. Her mouth was so soft, warm and inviting under his demanding lips, so yielding and welcoming to his advancing tongue. He could have kissed her like this for an eternity, but knowing that his enfeebled body soon would claim for rest, he eventually broke from her lips.    

"Lie back down," Boromir ordered with a low voice and gently pushed her from his lap onto her back again. "And leave your arms like this," he added while he quickly got rid of the rest of his clothes. 

"Aye, Captain," Aerilyn said with a small grin and remained lying still, feeling his gaze glued to her nakedness. 

"Good girl," he muttered, returned her grin and threw his last piece of clothing to one of the piles that had gathered around the bed. She closed her eyes again, still smiling, and waited for him to join her. She couldn't wait for him to be close to her again, and not only because she wanted to feel his skin on hers. She still felt somewhat uncomfortable being stared at like this, no matter how often he would emphasize that he found her the most beautiful woman ever. 

She was glad when he finally lay down next to her and they instantly immersed into the wondrous interplay of their heated bodies. Slowly, nervous hands started to glide over excited bodyparts, longing lips got lost in passionate kisses and gentle nips, enthusiastic fingers explored and caressed every inch of burning skin, every crevice, valley, curve and swell their bodies had to offer…

They made love, slowly and carefully, and the horrible events of the past were forgotten when they spiraled up together towards the highest peak of feelings. This time it was Aerilyn who was thrown over the edge first and she didn't even try to keep from crying out her emotions. She didn't care who could hear her wanton outburst and therefor didn't hold back. This wasn't one of their secret meetings from the past, she didn't have to fear discoveries anymore. They were officially married, declared husband and wife, and nobody would or could separate them again. 

She thought she would faint while waves of pleasure rocked her fragile form, one after another, drawing sweet, erratic moans from her throat and sending tremors all the way down to her toes. Her lids fluttered close and she desperately clutched to Boromir's body for support, pressing him tightly against herself. Suddenly oblivious to his serious injuries, she couldn't help digging her fingers in his skin, and Boromir didn't complain about the pain but held her even closer, burying his face in the black mass of her hair. 

"I love you," she groaned in a whisper and turned her head to place a short, sucking kiss on his ear. "I love you, Boromir..."

The sight and feel of her climaxing body in connection with an oath of love and his own name slipping from her moist, kiss-swollen lips was all it needed to bring it to an end. With a restrained groan waiting in the back of his throat, he turned his head to face her and then kissed her roughly while his eyes slammed shut and his body tensed violently. He felt one of her hands diving in his hair, the other one clawing at his sweat-covered back, her slender legs encircling his waist and her soft mouth crushed against his sore lips, and it all merged into one overwhelming, intoxicating sensation. The blazing feeling of truly loving somebody and being loved just as ardently in return, and not only in a physical way. It was intense, explosive, extraordinarily beautiful and utterly exhausting, and when the onslaught of his climax slowly ebbed away again, he fell, softly, floating on the sense of delight that was filling the room, filling them both. And Aerilyn was there to catch him, to hold him and stroke him and free him of the traumatic dreams that haunted him since the long days and nights of torture in the dark, cold dungeon. For the first time since the assault, he felt entirely untroubled and simply happy.  

Afterwards they lay at rest together, eyes closed and bodies entwined in an intimate embrace of love. Suddenly the exhaustion from the long day came over both of them, causing Boromir to fall asleep a few minutes after his wife did. The first birds already started to sing when Aerilyn slipped into dreamless, peaceful sleep, securely wrapped in the strong arms of her husband of one day. The last thing Boromir thought before deep sleep overwhelmed him as well was that he felt like drowning. Drowning in bliss.

**~ tbc ~**


	24. farewell

*** I have bad news and good news for you. Bad news: This is the very last chapter of "Assassins"! Good news: I'll probaby do a sequel. That is, if anyone is actually interested in reading a continuation of this piece of fanfiction. 

Anyway, **THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYBODY** for all your reviews!! You all rock!! They mean a lot to me and I was very flattered and often very moved and touched by the positive ones, but I also appreciated the "negative" & constructive criticism very much! I still can't believe that there are so many of you who actually read this story and liked it. I'm truly honored! I made a list of people I wanted to thank and wrote some more lines to them, so if you want to read that, you'll find it right behind this chapter.

Have a nice day! 

Yours

SpaceCowgirl ***    

When Aerilyn woke up the next day, she was disappointed but not exactly surprised to find the large bed she was lying in empty. Lids and limbs still heavy with deep slumber, she languidly outstretched a hand to run it over the cushion Boromir's head had rested on not long ago. The comforting, soft feel of the fine cloth under her skin was interrupted when her fingers suddenly touched the rough fabric of paper. Curiously, she sat up in bed and after trying to rub the sleep out of her tired eyes, she carefully unfolded the small, white sheet of paper that had been placed on the abandoned cushion. She revealed a few lines of black ink that were written in an unexpectedly nifty and tidy handwriting. A weak smile upon her lips, she began to read.

_Aerilyn, my dearest,_

_I hope you slept well. Excuse my stealthy departure, my presence was called for at an hour too early to wake you. Be assured that I will seek you out as soon as business permits it. Until then, do as you please and enjoy the day. I will meet you later._

_In faithful loyalty_

_Boromir _

After finishing the short message, Aerilyn read the letter again. And then again, and each time the smile on her face grew wider. Suddenly, the peaceful silence was disturbed by a loud, rumbling noise from her stomach which caused her grin to peak in a chuckle. It was probably too late for having breakfast together with the others. She hated to eat all on her own, but if she didn't want to starve she wouldn't have another choice this morning. Since she didn't have to leave the building to get to the dining-hall, Aerilyn just slipped in light-coloured, ordinary robes and tied her unruly hair back with a simple ribbon. She didn't expect to meet anybody on her way and was joyfully surprised to find somebody else who obviously had slept late sitting in the great dining-room. 

"Good morning, dear brother!" she exclaimed gleefully as she approached a very tired and groggy looking Atalar. Instead of returning her greeting he only grimaced as if he was in pain. 

"I suggest you speak a little more muted unless you want your brother to go insane with severe headaches," a kind voice made her swirl around with a start. "Good morning, Lady Aerilyn," Legolas added with an apologizing tone in his voice. 

"Good morning, Prince Legolas. I didn't notice you when I entered the room," she replied with a weak smile. "Please excuse my looks, if I had known that you were here as well, I would have –"

"Could you continue your conversation somewhere far, far away from me? _Please_?" Atalar interupted his sister without looking up from his breakfast he was basically picking at instead of eating anything. His voice was so throaty and miserable that Aerilyn couldn't suppress a short laugh. 

"Is it _that _bad?" she asked with a hint of both compassion and amusement in her voice. 

"I'm afraid yes," Legolas answered when Atalar didn't show any reaction to his sister's question.

"You aren't going to eat that, are you?" she then asked, gesturing at Atalar's breakfast. Finally he turned his face up to her and Aerilyn felt a sudden wave of sympathy well up inside of her when she saw how miserable he looked. 

"No, help yourself," he replied with his hoarse voice and pushed the dish towards her with a dull movement. "Where's your husband?" he added while she began to eat and raised a hand to his face to carefully massage his aching temple. Aerilyn shrugged her shoulders. 

"I don't know. He left me a note that he has business to see to."

"Ah, how romantic," Atalar said ironically and rose from his chair with a groan. "If you will excuse me now, I have to go to bed again."

"When shall we send somebody to wake you?" Lyn asked, hoping that she would have the opportunity to spend some more time with him later today.

"No sooner than the day after tomorrow. Thank you," Atalar replied as he slowly scuffed out of the dining room. 

"I hope my brother has more manners when he is with you, Prince Legolas," Lyn said as she looked after Atalar who seemed as if he would collaps to the ground and fall asleep immediately within the next seconds. Legolas replied with only a smile and approached the table the young female was sitting at. 

"May I?" He pointed at the chair that was on the other side of the table, opposite hers. 

"Of course, I'd love to have some company," Lyn beamed. As soon as Legolas had taken his seat, she said: "And there's something I wanted to tell you. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It was very kind of you to take care of Atalar like that and I don't take your help for granted."

"Please don't mention it. I would have supported him even if you hadn't asked me to do so. Even though we don't know each other for very long, I care for your brother. And I felt so sorry for him when I found him on the corridors, staggering and stumbling and just lost."

Lyn let her fork sink and troublesomely swallowed down the food in her mouth. "He was staggering and stumbling along the corridors?" she asked, totally aghast. "Oh no, I hope no member of Boromir's family saw him like that. Or anybody else for that matter. How embarassing!"

"I doubt that anybody noticed."

"I hope you are right," Lyn said. "I mean, if my father finds out that he behaved so shamefully... Atalar is never going to hear the end of it."

"He didn't have the intention to bring shame to your family. He didn't want to burden you with anything or darken your wedding day, either. You need to understand that the wedding celebrations were very, very hard for him. He had to face the fact that he did not only loose his beloved, but to a certain extent also his only sister. And all the happy couples that were dancing and laughing were surely hard to bear for him. He didn't want to leave because of you. He wanted to stay because he knew it would make you happy. But at one point, he couldn't handle it anymore. I don't think that shameful at all. It's only understandable."

"Believe me, my father would be of another opinion," Aerilyn stated and then decided to change the subject of their conversation. She was indeed very grateful that Atalar had obviously found a new friend in this elf, but after all she didn't know Legolas very well and wasn't very keen on discussing her family affairs with him. "May I invite you to join me by the riverside later today, maybe for taking a walk? I was actually hoping Atalar would come as well, but now that I know the condition he is currently in, I doubt that will happen."

"It's my pleasure to accept your invitation, Lady Aerilyn," Legolas said, and he meant every word. He was curious to get to know Atalar's little sister a bit better and see whether she was anything like her brother. 

After Legolas and Aerilyn had finished their breakfast and parted again, the young woman spent plenty of time on her personal hygiene. Or rather she spent time on letting others attend to it. A long, hot bath enriched with sweet herbs and flavorsome blossoms was followed by a massage by two maidservants who had already helped preparing Aerilyn for yesterday's wedding celebrations. With gentle and pleasant strokes they loosened the tension in Lyn's muscles and rubbed essential oil into her soft skin to preserve its smoothness and suppleness. The newly wed girl almost fell asleep under the very comfortable ministrations, but before her light dozing could develop into deep slumber, the handmaidens' treatment reached its end and Lyn had to get up. Next was getting dressed and getting her hair made, a procedure of which she had always hated the latter, especially because it always took so long. When finally she was neat and clean, all dressed up in beautiful and precious attire, the pitchblack curls tamed with countless ribbons, pearls and other hair decorations, it was already time for her appointment. After dismissing her maidens, Aerilyn rushed to her brother's chambers and, when there was still no reaction after she had knocked for the third time,  stepped in without his approval. 

Atalar was lying in his bed with all his clothes still on, and even from where she stood Lyn could make out the groggy look on his face. She silently crossed the room and sat down on the corner of the bed with a small sigh. For a few moments, she just watched him sleep. His lips were a little parted, his cheeks reddened and his forehead somewhat sweaty as he breathed deeply and slowly, chest rising and falling in the even rhythm of sound sleep. Reminding herself of her appointment, Aerilyn reached out and quickly but carefully undid the laces of Atalar's crumpled shirt. He didn't notice her presence at all and hardly showed any reaction, not even when Lyn tried to wake him by gently shaking him by his shoulder. 

"Atalar!" she called out to him and shook him harder, causing him to murmur something incoherent and furrow his brows in his slumber. After two more attempts, he eventually blinked open only one eye and tried to focus on her. 

"Time for dinner?" he asked with a throaty voice as his open eye narrowed to a thin slit. 

"No," Aerilyn said and tugged at his shoulders to guide him into a sitting position. "Come, help me a little, will you? You are much heavier than you look."

With an unhappy groan, Atalar struggled to sit up and let his sister pull his shirt over his head and arms. While he limply flopped back on the bed again, Lyn freed her brother from his heavy boots, as well as from his belt. With some effort on her part and some ineffectual wriggling on his part, Aerilyn somehow managed to pull the blanket from underneath Atalar's weary body in order to spread it over him instead.

"You will make a perfect mother," Atalar mumbled as his little sister tucked him in and lay one hand on his forehead as if to take his temperature. She smiled at his words and for a second considered telling him that she and Boromir were indeed going to be parents in foreseeable future, but judging from what she saw Atalar was not very likely to remember a thing she said when he woke up again later on. 

"Sleep now," she ordered gently and bent down to press a quick kiss to his forehead. "You need it. And if you feel well rested and more or less sober, you are very welcome to join us by the riverside. We'll probably spend the remaining day by the water. Prince Legolas will be there as well."

She wasn't sure whether he had registered what she had said since there was no visible  reaction to her words, but she didn't want to drag him out of sleep again. She kissed him one more time and then left as quietly as she had entered. 

Atalar slept for hours without the slightest interruption, and when he finally woke up again, he felt a little better. Not really animated and fit, but better. He was terribly thirsty and clumsily fought his way out of the sheets and blankets to get to the table in his room a water jug was placed on. The water was wonderfully cool and tasted fresh. A servant must have replaced the jug from this morning with a new one within the last half hour.

_I didn't even notice that someone was in my room_, Atalar thought, amazed, as he quaffed off a great amount of the coolish liquid. Only when his thirst was satisfied, he realized that his headaches were almost completely gone. A little more bright-tempered, he went back to his bed, but on his way almost tripped over his boots that lay tossed on the ground. After some moments of contemplating, he put his boots as well as a clean shirt on, hesitatingly at first, but when he closed the buckle of his belt, he was already rushing towards one of the exits of the huge building.

It was easy to find them. Joyous and lively laughter reached his ears quite some time before he actually reached them, and he would have sounded out his sister's from out of a million voices. After guiding his horse over another small slope, he finally caught sight of the people the active voices belonged to. Lyn was engaged in an obviously very entertaining conversation with Legolas as well as, much to Atalar's surprise, Lady Arwen. The female elf was the first one to take notice of Atalar and apparently pointed out his arrival to the other ones since suddenly all three were gazing in his direction. When Lyn waved at him he waved back half-heartedly and then dismounted his horse with a low sigh. Suddenly he wasn't so sure anymore whether it had been a good idea to join the others. He left his steed with the three other horses that were grazing not far from their owners and approached the small group with mixed feelings. 

"Atalar! I'm so glad you finally joined us!" Aerilyn called out with an eager tone in her voice, a beaming smile on her face. He smiled back, noticing that her cheeks were glowing in an eye-catching shade of red. Also her eyes betrayed her excitement, dark and agleam as they were. Even for a complete stranger it should be more than easy to read Lyn's face like an open book. "Will you play with us?"

"Play?" he echoed and only then saw that a weird composition of several stones of various colours and sizes and some thin sticks was arranged in the middle of the small group. 

"Our elven friends were so kind to show me a game that is common among their folk," Aerilyn explained joyfully. 

"Oh... Well, I'm afraid I won't be very helpful. I am not familiar with any elven games," Atalar blocked, hoping the others would let him just watch. This looked much like a game that required a lot sleight of hand, and that was something Atalar could definitely not serve with right now.

"You are not the only one, believe me," his sister said and chuckled lightly. "Actually I am still trying to figure out how exactly it has to be done!"

Atalar gave her a sheepish look and slowly shook his head in refusal, but she didn't seem willing to accept his decision.

"Oh, please Atalar! Now that you are here we can finally play in proper teams," Aerilyn begged and, since he knew her better than anyone else, Atalar could hear that she was very close to pouting and with that winning him over, like she always did. But before he could reply, Arwen raised her soft voice, causing Atalar to gulp down the words he had wanted to say.

"Don't be so anxious, Lord Atalar," she said with a gentle and encouraging smile. "It is only a game. Besides, I am more than sure that you have the potential to master it in no time." 

"Maybe if last night I hadn't..." His voice trailed off when he couldn't think of a way to put _If I hadn't drank myself to unconsciousness _in a less embarrassing wording. Three pairs of attentive eyes stared at him, obviously expecting him to continue, and so he cleared his throat and simply said: "I'm not well rested. I didn't sleep much. I fear I won't be able to focus on a complicated and tricky game." 

"No more excuses now," Legolas said, a smile crossing his fine features. "Sit down and join us, please. In order to equal the degree of difficulty at the best possible rate, Lady Arwen and I will play with only one hand whereas you two may use both. We are going to divide in two teams. A female team and a male team."

"Teams by gender?" Atalar blurted out a little louder than he had intended to. "Is that not a little unfair?"

"Why that?" Arwen asked, genuinly surprised. "It does not matter whether you belong to the fair or the strong sex when you play this game. Physical strength is not at all important for winning. Women are not disadvantaged."

"Who said I meant a division by gender is unfair towards _women_?" Atalar asked back, causing Arwen to smile amusedly. 

"There's only one way to find out which is the better team, right?" Lyn stated enthusiastically. 

"Correct," Legolas agreed. "We can get started as soon as I have explained the rules to Atalar. May the best team win, indeed."

They played for quite some time, and Aerilyn proved to be an even worse participant than Atalar who was so disadvantaged because of his poor condition, but nobody cared that she slowed down the game. It was a wonderful day and the atmosphere between them was very pleasant, and this was all they needed to be cheerful. Or in Lyn's case, _almost _everything. 

She missed Boromir terribly and more than once cast a searching gaze over the slopes, hoping her husband would come to join them. Late in the afternoon, a male rider approached them and for a moment she dared hope it was him, but quickly she had to find out that it was Aragorn. He brought word that Boromir was still very busy with preparations, discussions and provisions and would not have time to spare before nightfall. Lyn tried to put a good face on the matter, but she didn't feel like playing anymore and left her place by Arwen's side to Aragorn who willingly accepted to join in the game, which caused a turbulent discussion between him, Legolas and Atalar about whether Aragorn would have to play with one hand on his back or not. But Lyn didn't pay attention to the playful quarrel. 

Her mood didn't swing to the better for the remaining day, and when finally she was resting in the large and sadly empty bed she and Boromir had shared their wedding night in yesterday, she couldn't hold back the tears anymore. Very quietly the salty drops seaped into the precious cushions and blankets she was nestled in until she had cried herself to sleep.

She woke a few hours later, when strong arms carefully wrapped around her form and drew her close to a warm, broad body that had joined her in the bed. 

"Boromir...?" she murmured and turned around so that she faced him, but it was too dark to see anything. He answered by lowering his mouth on her lips, starting a slow and gentle kiss. She could tell that he was tired and worn out from the long day and yesterday's lack of sleep and therefor didn't protest when he soon broke the kiss again, although she would have liked to taste him for a little longer. Her hands slid around his waist and came to rest on his back as she pressed the side of her face against his chest with a low sigh. He just held her, his chin resting upon the top of her head. They lay like that for a while, until Boromir took a deeper breath and whispered: "Are you sleeping?"

"No," she whispered back. She thought he was going to apologize to her because he hadn't managed to spend time with her today, but he didn't. Instead, he addressed quite a different topic. 

"Aerilyn, promise me that you will take good care of yourself while I will be gone. I won't be here to make sure that you and our unborn are well and secure. You will have to see to it yourself, with the help of our servants of course, but still..." The concern was thick in his quiet voice as he spoke on. "I really want you to take care of yourself, especially in your current condition. You are not yet in perfect health, you are still fragile. Rest whenever you feel tired or exhausted. And please eat."

A smile enfolded on her face when she replied: "I am pregnant for only a short time now, but you speak like a severe father already." 

"I am serious about this," he said sternly and moved a hand to start gently fondling the nape of her neck. 

"I will take care," Aerilyn assure him in a low voice as she backed away a little, although she couldn't see him anyway. "There is no need to be concerned. I am as thoughtful and protective as you when it comes to our offspring, please be certain of that. You can put your mind to rest." 

The fingertips on her neck travelled to her face and cautiously caressed her cheek, the sensitive skin under her chin, her lips. 

"I know you will be strong," he said just before he leaned in for another kiss, now both his hands holding her face. When their mouths parted again, Lyn turned around and cuddled herself into the line of Boromir's body, her back flattened against his chest and the swell of her bottom molded against his lap. His embrace didn't yield as they lay together, silently, and long after Boromir's breathing had turned deeper and slower, betraying his sound sleep, Lyn was still thinking about the fact that it was possible that they would never again be together like this.

Aerilyn slowly woke up when familiar fingers tickled her under her chin. She blinked her eyes open and looked at Boromir's face that was bent over hers. The corners of his mouth moved slightly and formed a weak smile. 

"Good morning, my love,"  he whispered and cupped her cheek with his hand, gently stroking her face with his thumb. She smiled back drowsily and slowly stretched under the sheets. 

"You can go back to sleep in a minute, I just wanted to say farewell,"  Boromir jumped right to the matter. She frowned and sat up abruptly, making him back away so their heads didn't collide. 

"_Now_?"  she asked in disbelief, eyes wide with shock. 

"Yes. We decided to set out at dawn,"  he explained, closed his arms around her and drew her slender frame close to his body. She felt the stiff leather of the bracers that covered his forearms gliding over her back, and when she nestled against his chest her cheek didn't press against warm skin but the cold hardness of a chainmail that he wore underneath a splendorous dark tunic embroidered with silver and golden ornaments. She felt him kissing the top of her head and let her worry out with a heavy sigh. After a few moments in his embrace she backed away so she could see his face. 

"I promised you to take care of our baby and myself. Now please, do the same for me. Promise me that you will be careful and return to me safely," she demanded and looked him deep in the eyes. He grabbed her small hands and squeezed them tightly. 

"There's nothing I would rather do than returning home to you, my love. To you and to our child,"  he said and lifted one of her hands to his face to kiss it. 

"I hope you will come back before I give birth,"  she said. 

"I hope that too,"  Boromir replied, but he knew that it wasn't very likely to happen. He did not speak it out loud though, he didn't want to shatter Aerilyn's hopes. 

"If it is possible, please watch a bit over Atalar. He is young, inexperienced and hotheaded, I fear he will act without thinking and..."  Aerilyn sighed again and gently wiped a strand of hair from Boromir's face.  "I just want him to return home together with you. I know you are not very fond of him, but he's my brother and I love him dearly." 

"I know. I will do what I can to keep his life safe,"  Boromir promised and let his hand vanish in his clothes to get out a sealed envelope. 

"Speaking of Atalar..." he said softly and lay it on Aerilyn's pillow. "It is a letter from your brother."

"A letter?" she repeated and swallowed with effort. "Will he not come and bid me farewell in person?"

"No. Atalar already set out during the night. He rides with Legolas and a few of Gondor's scouts," Boromir replied. "I'm sorry," he added when he saw the sad expression in Aerilyn's watery eyes. "I guess he wanted to spare you another nerve-racking parting."

"It is not your fault," she whispered, obviously struggling with the tears that were slowly filling her eyes. Boromir placed a hand on her cheek soothingly, but he could not linger for long. He cleared his throat before he declared: "My soldiers are awaiting me, I have to depart now."

"I will miss you,"  Aerilyn whispered while she tried to fight back more and more tears that welled in her eyes. 

"I will miss you too,"  Boromir said, stroking her soft cheek.  "And now smile for me, my sweet one, for I want to remember your pretty face with a joyful expression when I am on the battlefield." 

She tried her best to do as he wished, but the smile was of sad nature and soon joined by salty tears that left moist paths down her pale face. 

"I know this is not enough comfort, but my thoughts, my heart, and my soul will be here with you all the time,"  he said and gently lowered his mouth upon hers as if to seal the vow. She responded with desperate passion, bruising his lips with deep and affectionate kisses. This time he gave in and reacted with equal devotion and fervour. It was the kiss of lovers who were very aware of the fact that this could be the last one they would ever have the chance to share, and it took a great deal of discipline from Aerilyn to not sob loudly when Boromir finally ended it. 

"Here," he murmured and stripped his necklace over his head. "I want you to wear it." 

"No... No, I can't accept this. This belongs to you."

"But I want you to have it. At least for the time that I will be gone." He attempted to put the fine chain with the beautiful amulet around her slender neck, but she shyed away. 

"It's your mother's necklace. I don't want to take it from you," she explained. 

"You are not taking it from me. You are keeping it for me until I return. Will you not do that for me? Keep this close to your heart until I come back?" When he again moved to put the necklace on her, she did not pull away or protest. 

"I don't have anything at hand to give you in return," she said and wanted to get up in order to fetch something appropriate, a piece of jewellry, a silken handkerchief or one of the colorful ribbons she always wore in her hair, but her husband grasped her by her arms and made her sit back down on the bed again. 

"There is nothing I want more from you than your word that you will be here when I return," he said as he took her hands in his. "This is all I'm asking for."

"I will wait for you, my Boromir, no matter for how long this war will separate us," she then said, her voice cracking. "When you come back to Minas Tirith I will be right here and welcome you with open arms, because I love you."

"These words are surely the sweetest and most precious treasure you could possibly send with me on my way. Your love gives me the strength I will need to lead my people, _our_ people, to victory. I thank you, Aerilyn."

"You do not need to thank me, I only speak the truth. I will send you letters to let you know I'm thinking of you every minute and to remind you that you promised to get back in one piece. You know how angry I will get if you break your promise, don't you?" 

A soft smile spread on his face. "Yes, my love, I know. I won't disappoint you." 

With that, he rose from the bed and stood in front of her, a tall and proud warrior. He seemed invulnerable in his dark armor and magnificent clothing, with the large sword that hung at his side, with the brave and determined expression on his noble face. But Aerilyn knew that her mind was playing her a trick, and that her husband who seemed so strong was not at all invulnerable. He surely was a true and great warrior, but he was neither invincible nor immortal. She watched him putting his dark gloves back on and realized that the hands he was covering weren't going to hold and caress her for a long, long time. 

"I will come back to you,"  Boromir promised again, captured her face with now gloved hands and bent down to press his lips to hers for one last time. 

"I will wait,"  Aerilyn whispered, tears streaming down her face in glimmering rivulets. 

"I love you,"  he said with a strong voice and kissed her forehead.  "I love you, Aerilyn." 

"I love you too,"  she replied and tried to smile. 

And then he was gone, heading for a great war that was to fight, determined to help his soldiers to victory. And all Aerilyn could do was hope that he would be able to conquer the opposing empire as successfully as he had once conquered her heart.

**~ THE END ~**


End file.
